


Lone Wolf Meets Coyote

by hanzo shimada (ubercharge)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drinking, Gay, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, hanzo tries his best not to disappoint mom, siblings suck, some side relationships because i live for gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubercharge/pseuds/hanzo%20shimada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genji thinks his big brother Hanzo should be try to be happy. Dr. Angela Ziegler thinks Hanzo should try and make friends with the rest of Overwatch. Hanzo thinks they should both step off, but then Jesse McCree comes along and throws a wrench in his brooding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Selenotropism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah the title sounds like some weird animal clickbait shit. but if youre reading this it worked right
> 
> non-english exchanges are in [square brackets] but theyre still written in english sentence structure out of ease and due to the fact that im not fluent in japanese. also, genji calls hanzo ‘anija’ in japanese. (hanzo just calls him ‘genji’ because hes the younger brother) //

The moon was full. A cool breeze rippled past, stirring the cherry blossom flowers. The streets were littered with their pink petals, floating gently to the ground. It was late at night, and between wispy clouds, stars twinkled overhead. Nobody was outside, and it seemed the place was abandoned. Without chatter to fill the air, footsteps and conversations and cars rumbling about...

Hanzo sat alone on a roof overlooking the district of Hanamura. He held onto the silence that surrounded him, wondering how much longer it would last. Wondering when he’d have to go back to the others and get some sleep. He’d scaled the temple walls with relative ease, and was left with his own thoughts.

He could almost hear Genji’s voice, Japanese shouts ringing out into the empty night - _“[Look! Watch this!]”_ \- and a laugh, melting into memories of himself and his brother growing up. Catlike, Genji would climb up walls and jump from building to building without fear. Hanzo had gotten used to chasing him through the streets, but Genji never made things easy for him.

_“[You know, brother, you take things too seriously.]”_

Hanzo closed his eyes. On a calmer night many years ago, on a different temple roof, Genji had told him that. Hanzo hadn’t scolded him for it, nor had he tried to defend himself. Genji had passed him a candy, and all potential replies were left unsaid. They watched the stars twinkle for a while. Genji had fallen asleep as Hanzo was still brooding. Hanzo had carried him partway home before Genji woke up again with a whack to Hanzo’s face.

He brought his hand to his cheek now, half-smiling. The hit had stung enough for him to be impressed, but he’d dropped Genji and felt bad about it. They’d walked the rest of the way home, arguing. Nobody ever noticed they were gone.

That had been over two decades ago. So much had happened since then, so much pain, and Hanzo wondered what more was to come in the future. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He picked up his bow, which he’d set down beside himself earlier, and ran his fingers over its surface. He inhaled deeply.

A solid _thump_ sounded behind him. Before he could even exhale, he was standing, bow drawn, arrow ready to be fired. Golden light flashed and washed over him. Hanzo lowered his bow, finally letting out his breath. He shook his head a little.

“You startled me, Angela,” Hanzo said.

Mercy gave a smile. The light wings in her suit retracted, and the rooftop returned to being moonlit, peaceful.

“Why are you up here, Hanzo?” she asked.

Hanzo sat down again, and Mercy took a seat beside him. For a little while, they watched the rooftops and trees. Another breeze made the petals fall and roll along the ground.

“I needed some time to myself. To think.”

Still giving her small warm smile, Mercy asked, “And how much have you been thinking?”

Hanzo looked down at the roof’s surface.

“Maybe too much. Maybe not enough.”

“Will your past feel resolved if you are up here, pouting on familiar rooftops?”

Hanzo huffed, and Mercy laughed.

“Why are _you_ here?” Hanzo countered, turning to her.

Mercy peered at him. “You know I don’t need much sleep,” she said. Then she shook her head a bit. “I was worried about you, my friend. You’ve been despondent for days.”

Hanzo squinted. “Is that different from my normal behaviour?”

“Yes, Hanzo,” Mercy said with an eyebrow raise. “I am used to you being less than friendly, though I must say I’m impressed at how you’ve warmed up some over these past few months...”

“Warmed up?”

“Mhm, you’ve stopped shooting arrows at everyone who tries to start a conversation with you.” Mercy looked down Hanzo’s arm, where he was still holding an arrow in his hand. “Well, most of the time... That _is_ an improvement, you know.”

Wordlessly, Hanzo slid the arrow back into his quiver. “I do not know any of these people. You cannot expect me to be nice to them,” he said.

Mercy elbowed him. “If you could treat them like people, that would be a good start. I managed to befriend you, didn’t I? I’m sure the others can do the same. You don’t have to be a lone wolf all of the time.”

Hanzo pursed his lips. “The others are loud,” he said.

“Not all of them. You only say that because Tracer wouldn’t stop bothering you for a full week after you got here. She wouldn’t let anyone else get a word in.”

“Yes, it made me want to leave.”

Mercy looked thoughtful. “But you wouldn’t leave your brother.”

Hanzo frowned. “He has been a nuisance.” He looked away, refocused his gaze on the buildings ahead.

“You could be nicer to him. He’s going to worry about you what with you sulking everyday, snapping at everyone if not avoiding us altogether. You aren’t particularly conversational in training, either, but at least you’re willing to work with us. Why not take another step towards making some bonds?”

“Training...” Hanzo muttered. “I did not say I would join Overwatch. Remember that.”

“But Genji is here, and now you have me as well. With luck, others! Your skills would be an asset, and training with you has been a delight. You can work in a team, and-”

“Angela.”

Mercy patted Hanzo’s shoulder. “I apologize for getting carried away,” she said. “You know how much this organization means to me, and how much it would mean to me if you were there with us. But it is a big decision to make, and I understand that.”

Hanzo sighed.

“While you’re around, at least try making some friends! It’s been four months. How have you avoided talking to everyone for four months? Oh wait, I know-”

“Angela-”

“-you do this,” Mercy said, making a sweeping gesture with her arm. “You isolate yourself. The others have tried, Hanzo... You haven’t let them in. I bet I could count the number of actual conversations you’ve had with the others - myself and Genji excepted - on one hand.”

“Why does this matter so much? I work and live better alone.”

Mercy stood. Her blonde hair looked almost silver in the night. Her stance was confident, her posture perfect.

“Because _you_ matter to me. By many standards, we hardly know each other. Nonetheless, we are friends now. Forgive my boldness for thinking we are good friends, but I think we are good friends. The other heroes do see you as a person who may one day be willing to get to know them, too. They ask me about you sometimes.”

“What? What do they ask you about?” Hanzo demanded, picking up his bow and standing.

“What you’re like. Whether or not you dislike them. What kind of food you like.”

“Why would they care about any of those things?”

“Because they’re curious about you. If we really are to work with each other in the future, perhaps closely somewhere, then doesn’t it make sense they’d like to know what kind of person you are? I tell them you’re quiet, but you are not a bad person. You do not dislike them, you just dislike interaction. And your favourite food is peaches.”

Hanzo opened his mouth, indignance written across his features. He shut it, and was quiet for a moment while Mercy looked at him expectantly. “I do like peaches,” he said.

Mercy clapped her hands together, pleased. “Try getting to know the others, Hanzo. You may very well find you’ll like them more than you think. They’re interesting people. The next time someone tries talking to you, start a conversation.”

“I cannot believe you are helping me make friends,” Hanzo grumbled, pulling his bow over himself.

“We all need a push in the right direction sometimes. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Mercy’s light wings shimmered out, bathing the rooftop shingles in gold.

“Now,” she said. “Let’s race back to the ship.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened. “That would be childish,” he said.

“But it would be fun, wouldn’t it? See, it’s over there,” Mercy said, pointing to the huge ship in the distance. It gave a faint blue glow against the dark horizon. “You have the advantage, you know these streets. Rooftops, I mean.”

“There is no rush to get back, even if it is three in the morning.”

Mercy gave him a little salute before turning and jumping off the roof.

“Angela!” Hanzo shouted, running up to the edge and peeking over.

Mercy shot back up, the light feathers of her wings parted. She landed neatly on the rooftop across from Hanzo, and waved.

“Head start!” she exclaimed before turning and leaping ahead, trailing gold light.

Hanzo muttered a curse but, competition getting the better of him, jumped and sprinted after her.

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

Hanzo yelled, sitting up and reflexively reaching for his bow beside him. His head knocked into another’s.

“Ow! Fucking hell, Hanzo!” a voice yelped.

Hanzo rubbed his eyes, blinked.

“You seriously sleep with your bow?”

“Yes,” he snapped, defensive as he put it back down.

D.Va was standing by his bed, her arms crossed. She was wearing a hoodie and shorts, clearly ready for a day of lounging. She still had the pink triangles of makeup on her face, and Hanzo wondered if she applied that every morning. Maybe they were tattoos? 

“How did you get in my room, Hana?”

“Not much of a room, is it, gramps?” D.Va said, quirking a smile as she gave the place a onceover.

She had a point; the rooms in the ship weren’t very big. Hanzo considered it blessing enough that he had a place to himself, though. There were twenty-four rooms, with three unused. They were all more like a cubicle than a proper bedroom, but the available space was used well. A bed, table, drawers, and even a closet slid into the walls and could be pulled out as needed. Neat and efficient.

“We all have the same kind of room,” Hanzo reminded her.

D.Va shrugged. “Angela told me to come and wake you for breakfast.”

Hanzo glanced at the clock embedded into the bedside drawer he always kept pulled out. It read 07:26.

“Neither of us need to be up this early,” he muttered. The statement was somewhat ironic; Hanzo tended to rise early.

“Well yeah, we only need twelve on the field and today’s not one of our days to be fighting, but maybe we can watch the others! You gotta wake up and eat sooner or later, don’tcha?”

Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose, gave a deep sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “But please let me get dressed in peace.”

D.Va gave a shrug and exited. The automatic door slid shut behind her.

Hanzo managed to get on a pair of sweatpants before D.Va reappeared.

“Hana, please-”

“No words,” D.Va hissed, sticking her finger out to signal silence. “Lúci’s awake and he’ll be coming around to make sure everyone else is, too. And Gabe - uh, Gabriel - isn’t. So he is _not_ gonna be happy.”

Sure enough, a shout came from down the hall.

“Rise and shine, everybody!” Lúcio called.

D.Va stepped into the bedroom calmly. The door closed behind her, and she plugged her ears. Hanzo gave her a look before following suit. He’d gotten used to waking at around 5 AM and being well out of the way before Lúcio did his thing every morning. By the time Hanzo was back for breakfast, if he chose to eat with the others, everyone was more or less awake.

Heavy bass blared out. D.Va winced and slid her headset on before giving an exhale of relief. Outside in the hallway, Lúcio skated past. The music grew louder as he passed, singing along to the song he was playing.

At the end of the hall, the volume of Reaper’s annoyed, raspy shouts rivalled that of the music playing at full. Lúcio laughed, yelled back, “It’s time to get up, Gabi!” The song faded as he left the hallway.

“He is not usually that loud,” Hanzo commented after D.Va removed her headset.

D.Va snorted. “Yeah he is,” she said. “You get used to it after a while, though. Keeps us all on time.”

Hanzo shook his head. “Gabriel, I mean,” he said.

“Ohh,” D.Va said, now nodding in response. “Yeah, I don’t think anything pisses him off like being given a rude awakening.” She looked down at Hanzo’s chest. “You gonna put a shirt on? Wait, doesn’t matter, I’m hungry, let’s go!”

Before Hanzo could even think of something to protest her words, she was pulling him out of his room. He managed to grab his bow and quiver, slinging them over himself. Hanzo wasn’t wearing shoes, so it helped that the ship’s floors were perfectly clean. On the way to the dining area, D.Va kept up a constant stream of chatter.

“I never check the menu so I’m not sure what’s available today. You think it’ll be good? I’m kinda craving chicken... I think Angie - Angela, right, forgot you don’t know everyone’s nicknames-”

“I could’ve guessed that,” Hanzo mumbled.

“-said she wanted to cook tonight? Dunno why she would, don’t think it’d be easy to cook for twenty-one people... Alright, some of us don’t eat much... or at all... but the rest of us! Kind of eat a fucking lot, right?! That’s so much cooking, I swear she was just joking when she said that.”

Hanzo told himself to bear the auditory assault. Admittedly, the thought of Mercy cooking for everyone was indeed entertaining, but he’d just woken up and couldn’t even attempt conversation now.

The ship was big, but the walk from bedroom to dining room was mercifully short. It had a wide door, already open. Most of the others were sitting at one of two tables, eating their breakfast. D.Va took a seat at the middle, and, looking up at Hanzo, patted the spot next to her as a welcoming gesture. Before he could sit down, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He turned to see Genji standing behind him, wearing a t-shirt with a cat on it.

Hanzo opened his mouth to speak, but Genji spoke first. He pointed down.

“Are those my pants?” he asked.

Hanzo looked down.

“[Why would they be your pants?]” he asked, in Japanese out of habit.

“[They look like my pants,]” Genji replied, also in Japanese.

D.Va rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, ready for a show. She tapped on the table’s touchscreen menu to order breakfast for herself and Hanzo. Zarya and Mei sitting at the other end of the table glanced over, both looking somewhat interested before returning to quiet conversation.

“[Genji, they’re just grey sweatpants.]”

“[Brother, do you even own sweatpants?]”

“[Yes, because Angela told me to get some casual clothes to blend in with all these Westerners.]”

“[I’m pretty sure those are my pants.]”

A pleasant chime sounded as the rectangular menu portions of the table slid aside to reveal two plates, complete with breakfast as ordered. They were lifted and clicked into place, blending in seamlessly with the rest of the table. Hanzo ignored the food, firing back a reply instead.

“[They’re not your pants. They’re mine. They were in my drawer!]”

“[Well maybe you stole mine. Maybe that’s my missing pair.]”

“[We’ve been over this. When your clothes are in the laundry, that doesn’t mean they’re missing. It means they’re being cleaned.]”

“[I just want my pants back, brother. Why is that so much to ask for?]”

“[I’m not giving you these pants. I’m wearing them. You don’t... You don’t even _need_ to wear pants.]”

“[If I want to wear pants, I’m going to wear pants.]”

“[You’re not wearing them right now,]” Hanzo said, pointing an accusing finger at Genji’s bare cyborg legs.

“[Did it occur to you that maybe my favourite pair of comfortable pants was unavailable? Because I lost them, you know.]”

Hanzo was about to grab and throw his breakfast plate - an omelette was sitting on it, he noticed - at his brother when they were interrupted.

“Mornin’, y’all.”

“Good morning, Jesse,” Genji said with a nod of acknowledgement.

Like Hanzo, McCree wasn’t wearing a shirt, though he had on pants and his hat. Spotting Hanzo’s minimalistic wardrobe choices, he grinned and raised his hand.

“Goin’ casual for the mornin’, too? Heck, I’d toast ya if we had drinks on us.”

Hanzo’s gaze was all daggers and katanas as he reluctantly delivered to McCree the desired hi-five.

“Not a fan of wakin’ up early, huh?” McCree asked, raising an eyebrow and taking the seat next to him.

“Not a fan of my brother,” Hanzo muttered in reply. He turned his attention to his tray. The moment of plate-shattering desires had gone.

“Oh, come on,” Genji said. He hopped over the table to sit across from Hanzo, and quickly punched in his breakfast order. “You’re so cold, brother.”

“And you are annoying.”

Genji kicked Hanzo under the table. There was an enraged shout followed by blurs of movement.

“What is going on here?”

Hanzo had his bow drawn, ready to fire at Genji who’d sat down again. Both brothers turned to see Mercy at the door, Pharah right behind her looking much more confused. Genji pointed a silent accusation at Hanzo. The dining room was silent spare some snickers.

“Hanzo, what did I say about bringing your bow to the dining room?” Mercy asked.

“You are not my boss, Angela.”

Mercy shot him a stern look.

Hanzo put the arrow back in his quiver, slung his bow back over himself, and sat down again. Before long, D.Va was laughing, nearly falling off her seat. McCree had a hand over his mouth, but he was smiling too.

“Is peace at the tables that much to ask for?” Mercy sighed, sitting down beside Genji. Pharah took a seat beside her.

“Apparently so, ma’am,” McCree replied, poking his fork at the hash brown on his plate.

Before long, casual conversation settled over the table.

“Who’s on for the week?” McCree asked.

D.Va sipped aggressively green soda out of her glass before answering: “Gabe, Fareeha, Jack, Bastion, Mako, Jamie, Satya, Zenny, Winston, Torby, Lúci, and Willy.”

“How the hell’d you memorize that?” McCree asked, incredulous.

D.Va smiled. “Consider it skill,” she replied.

“Or she just switched the table’s menu interface to the weekly roster,” Pharah said, nodding down at the section of table to D.Va’s unoccupied left. The rectangle of space had indeed been switched, displaying the day’s roster instead.

After a brief pause, the group was laughing. Even Hanzo was, though his faint chuckle could hardly be considered a laugh. Mercy caught the sound and felt a touch of relief. 

“What is it?” Pharah asked her softly as Genji poked fun at D.Va.

“Hm?” Mercy replied.

“You just sighed.”

Mercy took her hand, laced their fingers together.

“I think maybe my son- friend, _friend,_ oh...” she reddened, and Pharah grinned.

“What about your son, dear?”

Mercy stammered before giving a proper reply. “He’s... I think maybe he’ll be okay. Working or at least interacting with us.”

“As if you needed to teach a grown man to make friends.”

“I suppose not, but I was worried. You can’t work on a team when you don’t like the team. You have to get along with more than one or two people, don’t you think? He was groomed to be a leader, but not socialized to be a friend, an equal...”

Pharah kissed her cheek. “He’s just quiet. It’s a little intimidating, I’m sure, when most of us know each other very well. He only has his brother.”

“And myself,” Mercy mumbled.

“Yes, and yourself,” Pharah said. “Do you think he’ll make an effort to talk to the others?”

“I hope so. It’s not as if I’ll be able to check up on him all day. But with you out...”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Mercy whispered, giving Pharah’s hand a squeeze.

Hanzo finished the omelette that D.Va had ordered for him. It hadn’t been too bad, though he was impressed with her going ahead and choosing his breakfast without asking first. He’d been arguing with Genji at the time, but still.

“So what’re your plans for the day, Hanzo?”

Hanzo looked up to see Tracer taking the empty seat beside Genji. He turned back to the empty plate before answering her question.

“Not sure.”

“Aw, c’mon, there’s gotta be somethin’ you wanna do, love.”

“I won’t be able to walk around Hanamura while everyone’s blowing everything up. Maybe I’ll sleep for the whole day,” Hanzo said, though he certainly did not intend on sleeping all day.

Tracer laughed. “That’s a proper plan there, innit? Well if you don’t need to be out, then why not take the time to nap?”

Mercy tsked. “We can drive out somewhere, if you’d like. This area been cleared, but if we go far enough, we’ll have more to do.”

“I still fail to understand how Overwatch is simply able to clear a district this way,” Hanzo said.

Mercy gave a terse smile. “We have help,” she said. “Would anyone like to make a trip out of here sometime this week?”

“Sure,” D.Va said. “Sounds like fun!”

“Jesse? Genji? Lena?”

“Why not,” McCree said with a shrug.

Genji nodded. “I have no objections. It would be nice to look around some more.”

Tracer nodded too. “I’d love to join. Be funner than sittin’ around here.”

“Zarya? Mei?” Mercy asked, raising her voice a little to reach the other end of the table where the two were sitting.

“We will think about it,” Zarya replied. Mei smiled.

“Don’t think they’d mind stickin’ around the ship if the rest of us got outta their hair,” McCree said.

“Where’s Amy?” D.Va asked.

“Widowmaker? Probably in the shootin’ range,” McCree replied.

“It’s so early,” D.Va said.

“She likes to get there before everyone else is clamourin’ for targets, even though it’s usually just the two of us.” McCree paused. “Sometimes Jack and Lena’re there. Spec Widowmaker likes it quieter, though.”

As McCree and D.Va wondered about Widowmaker spending all her free time in the target range with Tracer muttering curses about her in the background, Mercy fixed Hanzo with a meaningful stare. He looked back at her, but broke eye contact to tap at the section of table he was using so it would clear his plate and glass.

“Come on, Hanzo. You’ll join us, won’t you?” Mercy asked. “It’d be a good chance to get some fresh air.”

Hanzo didn't really want to look around with the others, but he had to admit it _would_ be more interesting than sitting around the ship all week. As far as he knew, there wasn't much to do here beyond target practice, which Hanzo had yet to try out. It would make Mercy happy, especially if he made an attempt at mingling. And it'd be easier to socialize if only half of the group was coming.

"I will," Hanzo said.

Mercy gave him a grateful look. Proud, even. "Excellent. Let's set out tomorrow, shall we? Jack and Gabriel are both in the week's training rotation, but if I am with the group, they won't worry."

"Doubt they'd worry 'bout us anyway, miss," McCree said.

"Yeah, those two only have time for their weird... sexual tension-filled feud, or rivalry, or whatever the hell's going on between them," D.Va added.

"Hana!" Mercy exclaimed, taken aback as Tracer and McCree laughed. "That's up to them to sort out. Let's not gossip about them at the table."

"No, let's!" Tracer said, eyes wide as she nodded.

“Let us not,” Genji said with a disapproving shake of the head.

"I swear I saw them enter and exit the showers together," D.Va whispered loudly, causing another peal of laughter to ring out.

"Hana, please," Mercy said, her tone serious.

"Alright, I'll stop. We can continue this tomorrow, on the road!"

"Right," Mercy said before pursing her lips and giving a nod. "We can meet at the table again and set out after breakfast. I'll take one of the hovercrafts."

"You can just... do that?" Tracer asked, looking impressed.

Mercy gave a shrug. "If you have the right clearance levels, yes," she said. "There are quite a few toys stocked on this ship, you know."

"Well yeah," Tracer said. She scoffed. "But I thought they were cargo, love."

"They're technically part of the ship's armory... And in the case of the hover vehicles, they can also serve as our lifeboats, so to speak."

"Lotta fancy stuff here," McCree said, interested.

"Yes, I'm surprised you haven't had a look around," Mercy replied. "You'd be surprised how much has been fit on the ship."

"Reckon I oughta do just that today. Be nice to know what we can take for a spin."

Mercy raised an eyebrow. "Like I said, it depends on your clearance levels. It's only Jack, Gabriel, Winston, and myself who can use almost anything on board."

Tracer groaned in disappointment.

"Don't fret, Lena. You and Jesse should have access to a few things, too." Tracer perked up at that. "Most of us do - with the exception of our newcomers," Mercy said, flashing an apologetic look at a disinterested Hanzo.

"So what does the ship have to offer?" Genji asked.

Mercy thought about it. "The hovercrafts, for starters. A variety of other land and aquatic vehicles. Many, _many_ different weapons. Different technology and machinery serving different purposes. There are quite a few empty rooms as well. Satya uses one and it looks like an art gallery for hard light." A pause. "...Did you all assume the ship was just to house us and the dining room?"

"S'pose I never really thought about it," McCree said.

"It is a very big ship," Genji said. "But that doesn't mean we get to look around."

"Well now you know you can, and there are some nice things to see," Mercy said.

Hanzo was mildly curious about what else there was to see on the ship, especially since he'd spent so much time away from it. Brooding, overthinking, avoiding everyone. Perhaps if he took a walk around, he could get to know some of the others who weren't out to fight for the day.

"Well, I'm gonna go watch a bunch of movies nonstop. If anyone wants to join me, I'll be in the common room," D.Va said, getting up. She tapped the table and it cleared her plate and glass.

"I will," Mercy said, also standing. "I could use a break."

Pharah left with her and D.Va. There were some scattered 'good bye's and 'good luck's to Pharah for the day's training.

"Enjoy your trip," Pharah told the rest of the group. "I look forward to joining you all another time."

"Rain down some justice for us, love!" Tracer replied, beaming. 

Hanzo stood to leave. 

"Where are you going now, brother?" Genji asked.

"To put a shirt on," Hanzo said, giving him a look of mild loathing.

"It ain't that cold in here," McCree said. "You were doin' us all a service by comin' here without it, handsome."

Hanzo's face reddened and he just stood still for a moment that, to him, was impossibly awkward. He didn't have anything to say in reply to that.

"Look what you've done to him, Jesse!" Tracer exclaimed, clearly trying not to laugh. "He finally has breakfast with the group and you've embarrassed him."

McCree turned to Hanzo, giving a smile. "Shucks, there's no way a pretty boy like him hasn't heard that kinda compliment and more before."

"He tunes everyone out," Genji said.

Hanzo considered the situation for a moment before turning to retreat. His room, yes, it would be quieter and thus much nicer in there. His ears burned. Behind him, he could hear continued chatter in the dining room. Some laughter. A clap, maybe on the back.

He was approaching the hallway of bedrooms when - footsteps. He spun.

"Didn't mean to bother you back there," McCree said, looking sheepish and still wearing that easy smile.

Hanzo wondered how red his face was, wondered how much of it was from surprise, wondered if any of it was from anger.

"You did not," he said. "I was caught off-guard, is all."

McCree raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked. "Shoot, y'know I wasn't kiddin' when I said you must be used to that kinda thing. Long as it didn't make you uncomfortable, darlin'."

Hanzo took a breath. "It is... of no interest to me to go seeking out compliments. It never was." He looked up, only continued because there was interest glimmering in McCree's eyes under the brim of his hat. "All the praise I could ever ask for came not from admirers, but from my father and the elders of my clan."

"Well ain't that a way to live," McCree said, giving a soft chuff of laughter. "Reckon it was your li'l brother who liked the attention from strangers."

Hanzo nodded once, somewhat stiffly. "It was one of his weaknesses," he said.

McCree cocked his head. "Dunno if liking attention's a weakness, darlin'. You and he are different people, 's all. Meant for different destinies, but you both ended up here anyway. Ain't that somethin'?"

Hanzo looked to the side, at the wall. It was a smooth matte black. He had a sudden urge to run his hands over it and touch it; it was such a clean-looking surface. Along the corners on both wall and ceiling ran strips of blue light. He didn't touch it.

"Our lives could've ended up very different," Hanzo said simply.

"I know about the Shimada Clan. Spec all of us do at this point, and it was a hotter topic when you were brought on board." McCree leaned forward a bit and it made Hanzo more aware of their height difference. "D'you think you'd'a been happier, livin' that life with your brother?"

Hanzo fixed McCree with a solemn look. "No," he admitted. "I left for a reason. Many reasons, and it resulted in some heavy consequences. But Genji would not have lived that life even if we never fought, and with how things turned out... Perhaps this is for the better."

McCree straightened, looking satisfied with the answer.

"And you," Hanzo said, suddenly remembering Mercy's gentle instructions to make friends and to make conversation. "Do you regret how things turned out for you?"

"I've been through a few regrettable things," McCree replied with a shrug. "Don't think the folks here trust me all that much, considerin' my history before Blackwatch. But hey, now they've got some people to trust less, no matter how handsome they are," he said, winking.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. "Widowmaker is the one I find most untrustworthy," he said. "My brother tells the others that I can be trusted. It is word that they have taken, and they certainly trust him."

"Think he has higher security clearances than me?" McCree asked.

Hanzo peered at him. "I cannot say," he replied.

McCree nodded down the hallway to his right. "Wanna come see?"

Hanzo's eyes flitted to his peripheral vision. He still wanted to pull a shirt on, but when he looked back to McCree, he noticed the man was staring at his chest and Hanzo rolled his eyes again. He decided not to bother going for a shirt if McCree was going to be tailing him back to his bedroom. That was just asking for more comments he didn't want to deal with.

Hanzo nodded.

McCree led him down the hallway, which resembled the bedroom corridor but lined with fewer doors. And the doors it did contain weren't labelled with people's names.

"Angela knows what's she's talkin' about, with all the neat stuff on this ship. Now, most of it, I haven't even bothered takin' a look at... but there are a few things that're beggin' for a go," McCree said.

The two had a brief stroll before McCree stopped. A little black screen on the door indicated a security clearance requirement, and McCree planted his non-cybernetic hand on its surface. His palm was scanned and McCree lifted his hand. On a dark grey background, his portrait and ID were shown. Over his name read _Overwatch,_ Hanzo noted. A blue checkmark appeared on the screen accompanied by a _ding_ of approval before the door slid open.

"This is... a shooting range?" Hanzo asked, looking around.

There were eight spaces for people to stand and practice, separated by opaque partitions. Digital targets glowed at the opposite end of the room, though they weren't particularly far away. 

"Sure is, darlin'. Real nice virtual reality one. If you walk up to any of the spots, you'll get a headset to put on," McCree said, doing just that.

The counter in front of him glowed blue in welcome. Part of it slid aside and up rose a black headset that McCree put on. When the panel slid shut again, it lit up with a menu interface. Not like the one that the dining room table offered, but one outlined in blue showing a variety of symbols alongside a keyboard.

"All the fancier stuff on the ship requires security clearance, even if it ain't exactly somethin' we can misuse. Protocol, maybe?"

"Paranoia," Hanzo suggested.

McCree grinned before resuming his explanation. "Anyway, I've been here before so it's already set to what I've always found a more interestin' bit of target practice."

Hanzo noticed that the target across from McCree had changed.

"Just a bunch of digital birds to shoot at, nothin' special. There're tons of scenarios to choose from. And the best part? Tons of _weapons_ to choose from. Limitless, really."

McCree tapped some keys and the counter offered him dark gauntlets that he put on.

"All this stuff connects to your nerves or somethin'. Feels pretty realistic."McCree raised an arm and, judging by his finger movement, pulled the trigger on a gun. One of the blue glowing target bird silhouettes showed a black bullet wound before falling, its glow fading. "Take it for a spin, darlin'."

Hanzo was hesitant, but took the counter to the right of McCree anyway. He put on the headset. His vision blurred and focused on a new sight: a grassy field on a clear, sunny day. A single target faced him, appearing a lot more far away than the digital target had moments ago.

The interface prompted him to select a weapon. He typed in _'bow'_ and, from a very extensive list, soon settled on a simple wooden bow with matching arrows. He slid the gauntlets on and immediately felt as if he was holding the chosen bow. His quiver sat on the grass beside him.

With a single thought, he pulled up the menu on the virtual interface to change the setting. It offered a variety of default target practice-type scenarios, including but not limited to one based on the Omnic Crisis, which seemed irreverent, and what Hanzo assumed McCree had picked - bird shooting. He chose it, the menu minimized, and the single target disappeared, replaced by a beautiful silver birdcage.

Hanzo nocked an arrow and drew back the bow. The cage's door opened, and a torrential rainbow of feathers burst forth. Hanzo had never seen such fanciful birds in his life, but at least their brightness would make them easier to hit.

Before long, his arrows were flying almost as fast as the digital birds regenerated. They pierced chest, head, neck, wings. The bodies were piling up on the grass. Hanzo lost himself in the simulation, feeling satisfaction after every clean hit. The birds whirled, dipped, and spun, providing a challenge for him to shoot at.

A low whistle made Hanzo falter and miss his target. He remembered in a rather jarring instant where he was, and removed the headset. Doing so disconnected the feeling from the gloves, so he removed those too and set all the items down on the counter. His eyes refocused on the real world. He was breathing heavily.

McCree was standing behind him, arms crossed over bare chest, smiling with approval. "Some mighty fine numbers you got there," he said, nodding at the targets ahead.

Hanzo turned. The bird silhouettes had faded. A large pause icon was displayed on top, along with _71 kills, 98.6% accuracy_ and below that, _Breakdown of Stats_.

"No wonder Overwatch wants you so bad," McCree said.

Hanzo's face was already flushed from exertion, and for that, he was grateful. He turned back to the counter and tapped the escape key on the keyboard. The headset and gauntlets were retrieved.

"I'm sure you're a good shot as well," Hanzo replied.

McCree shrugged. "I know a trick or two," he said, sounding as nonchalant as possible.

"We've fought against each other," Hanzo reminded him.

"Spec you'd be the one to give Widowmaker a run for her money, though."

"All three of us work at different ranges."

"I think you've still got the best aim, darlin'."

Hanzo stepped off the shooting range platform, and the counter shut off. He had to look up to meet McCree's gaze, and judging by the look in his eyes, McCree didn't mind at all.

"Why do you call me that?" Hanzo asked. "We hardly know each other."

McCree blinked. "You rather I called you by name like everyone else?" His gaze was half-lidded now, and Hanzo wondered exactly what he'd gotten himself into. "Then shoot, how the hell're you s'posed to know I'm interested?"

"Interested?" Hanzo repeated, brow furrowed.

"Sure, why not? Maybe 'cause your brother don't got a preference, I just assumed it was the same with you, though I could be wrong there."

"Preference?" Hanzo really wasn't sure what to say, where exactly this was going.

"Yeah, in gender," McCree said. "He's told me he doesn't really care about that sort of thing, but he also said he wasn't too sure about you. And as for me, well that's pretty simple - I like men."

"Oh," Hanzo said. He hesitated before adding, "I never really thought about it much."

McCree laughed. "You're right though, we hardly know each other. If you'd like, we could _get_ to know each other a li'l better."

"What are you asking?"

"Nothin' you oughta feel pressured by. But now that Angela's got you talkin' to us, if breakfast was anythin' to go off of, it'd be nice to have a chat every now and then, yeah?"

"I don't see why not," Hanzo said, while thinking to himself that he still didn't care much for talking to everyone. Why should that change?

"It'd give me a chance to charm ya," McCree said with a warm smile.

Hanzo took a deep breath. "Do not count on it," he said, turning and tapping the door for it to slide open. He heard McCree laughing behind him.

"What time is it now?" Hanzo asked, stepping out the hall.

McCree locked the door as he left. "Been shootin' for about an hour and a half, maybe two. I could use a drink."

Hanzo stopped and McCree nearly walked into him.

"Whoa there, a li'l warnin' before-"

Hanzo turned. "It is only 10 in the morning," he said.

McCree, unperturbed, said, "I could definitely use a drink."

Without another word, Hanzo turned back around and continued walking. McCree fell into step next to him.

"It's one of our days off, darlin'. We can drink if we want to."

"Maybe later."

"Well don't make me hold you to that."

"It was not a promise."

"Fair enough."

Hanzo peeked out of his peripheral vision to see McCree smiling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ [this](http://weburbanist.com/2013/07/10/fold-out-room-12-ultra-compact-living-pods-systems/) and [this](https://faircompanies.com/videos/tiny-origami-apartment-in-manhattan-unfolds-into-4-rooms/) kind of stuff inspired how their rooms work. there was another video from forever ago along these lines but i cant find it sadly


	2. Astriferous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ana amari was released on tuesday (today, at the time of writing this note) as the new support! she’s a sniper with a heal gun. i actually referenced her biotic rifle in the next chapter, that portion of which i wrote not even 12 hours before her official announcement. kinda cool! haven't tried playing as her but i did try playing mccree. turns out i'm not terrible at him. //

Hanzo joined the rest of the group for the day’s send-off. Genji, Zenyatta, and Tracer were chatting. Mercy and Pharah kissed each other goodbye. D.Va, perched on Roadhog’s shoulders, was talking animatedly to Lúcio on Junkrat’s shoulders. Symmetra, Winston, and Torbjörn were discussing something, and Symmetra was fiddling with a holographic interface to show them a 3D diagram. Right outside the ship’s exit, Soldier: 76 and Reaper seemed to be shooting each other angry glares. That was to be expected. Reinhardt was speaking quietly to Bastion, Zarya, and Mei. Widowmaker stood alone, checking out the clear sky above. McCree approached her and was promptly yelled at.

“Hanzo’s nicer than you and I’ve hardly had a full conversation with him.”

Hanzo snapped out of his reverie at the sound of his name. He stepped a little closer to see Widowmaker looking disgusted and McCree not looking apologetic at all for having paid her a good morning.

“To be fair, you two are perfect for each other,” Widowmaker said, her French accent clearer in her irritation.

“Why’s that?” McCree asked.

“You’re both terrible snipers, and it’s a wonder you ‘ave the nerve to speak to me at all,” Widowmaker snapped.

“That was rude,” Hanzo commented, eyeing Widowmaker warily.

She smiled. “Would you wager your skill against mine?”

“I know I would,” McCree said with a shrug.

Widowmaker narrowed her eyes at him before turning back to Hanzo. “I may be younger than you, but it would do you well to know your place,” she said.

“Let your ability prove itself on the field,” Hanzo replied coolly.

Widowmaker rolled her eyes and walked over to the other side of the ship’s exit, her heels clicking against the floor beneath.

“She’s not big on talkin’,” McCree said.

“But you did try,” Hanzo pointed out.

McCree laughed. “See you found a shirt to wear,” he said.

Hanzo looked down. He was wearing a grey t-shirt, a little small for him, with the silhouette of a white kitten printed on it. He huffed.

“I see you haven’t,” he said, glancing at McCree’s bare chest. “It’s Genji’s.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen him wear that before.”

“He accused me of stealing his pants earlier at breakfast, if you recall. His room was unlocked, so I stole this from him.”

“Just... outta spite?”

Hanzo raised his eyebrows. “Do you have siblings?” he asked.

“I had an older brother and sister, once upon a time,” McCree replied casually.

“And you had a perfectly fine relationship with both?”

“We didn’t interact much,” McCree said, looking aside.

“I assure you if you did, you would understand.”

“This ain’t even seem a little silly to ya?”

Hanzo tugged at the shirt. “It does, somewhat,” he admitted. “But that’s what siblings do.”

“Suppose it’s nice to see you haven’t given up everything that’s funny.”

Hanzo turned to leave and he slipped through the crowd.

“Aw c’mon, darlin’, I was just kiddin’!” McCree called, weaving through everyone and their conversations to go after Hanzo.

Hanzo lingered at the back of the room, watching everyone else chat and inspect their weapons. Lúcio and D.Va hi-fived each other from their mounts before Junkrat tripped, sending himself and Lúcio down in a heap. Soldier: 76 said something to Widowmaker. It didn’t appear as if she replied.

“Think it’s gonna be a long day?” McCree asked him.

“Maybe not if I can take a nap,” Hanzo mumbled in reply.

He could already picture the smile on McCree’s face. He contemplated for a moment the potential aftermath of McCree making the offer to join him in his bed. Hanzo gave a quick “goodbye” and left immediately.

 

“Figures we’d meet up here.”

Hanzo looked up from the dining room table. McCree stood at the room’s entrance, now dressed comfortably in a dark grey hoodie with matching sweatpants and his serape worn like a scarf. Over the sweater’s chest, it read _‘Overwatch’_ and Hanzo wondered where he could get a hoodie like that.

“Why do you say that?” he asked, rubbing his head. Where had the hours gone? It seemed like just a few minutes ago he’d said hello to Mercy and good luck to Pharah for the day. He’d napped for a while, practiced at the target range that McCree had shown him, surprised the room had let him in. “This is the dining room, after all. People tend to eat and drink here.”

McCree looked at Hanzo’s glass then took the seat across from him, tapping at the table’s touchscreen before he was even properly seated. In a touch, it switched from idle interface to a pretty image of the night sky above the ship, starry and free of clouds. A little icon showed an almost-full moon next to the time: 22:49. None of this information seemed particularly useful to Hanzo.

“Told you earlier I wanted a drink, didn’t I?” McCree asked, glancing up and looking pleasant. “There ain’t many places for drinks on this ship, y’know. And here was the only place I’d expect to find you, unless you were in your own room.”

Hanzo supposed he could’ve pulled a chair out of his bedroom wall, where the furniture was kept when not in use. Then maybe he could’ve ordered a drink, also from the wall.

“I’ve yet to try out the room’s ordering system,” he replied.

“It ain’t much different from this table,” McCree said. “But I could show you, if you wanted.”

Hanzo peered at him. McCree smiled slowly.

“It doesn’t have meal options so we don’t spend all our free time in our rooms, but folks do that anyway. Still helps if you’re up late drinkin’ and feel like havin’ a snack, though.”

Hanzo considered the benefits of not leaving his room cubicle. Alright, it wouldn’t make Mercy happy, but the snack thing didn’t sound too bad. Maybe he could try it out sometime. Then he caught McCree’s expression - kind of excited. Silly, but endearing.

“Fine, then,,” Hanzo said, grabbing his glass and getting up.

“What’ve you got there?” McCree asked, nodding at his drink.

“I was tasting what this ship has to offer in the way of wine.”

McCree almost laughed at that. “Red or white?” He thought about it before adding, “I’m a whiskey man myself.”

“Rice. It’s sake,” Hanzo said, not breaking his stride. He paused. “The glass is clear,” he muttered, receiving a smile from McCree.

“Right, Genji’s mentioned that you like it. Once or twice. He ain’t too fond of it himself, spec it’s ‘cause he ain’t drink much anymore...” McCree said, shaking his head.

“For the best,” Hanzo said. “He could be very irresponsible with alcohol.”

The hallway’s blue lights seemed a little dimmer at night. Their steps were quiet.

“More than you?” McCree asked. He grinned. “We’ve been told some pretty great stories involving both of you when you were young and wild.”

Hanzo almost stopped walking but didn’t. He planted his palm firmly on his room’s door. Inside, the ceiling and floor lights blinked on to greet him. He pulled his bed out from the wall along with a table to set his drink down.

“It’s right over that table, actually,” McCree said.

Hanzo almost asked him to lock the door because he always had it locked, out of habit, but figured that would sound suspicious. His bow and quiver were sitting on the bed.

“You ever use this for anything?” McCree asked, tapping at the rectangular touch screen above the bedside table.

“To check the time and weather, or to set an alarm,” Hanzo said. “There is not much else to do.”

“You could always put some music on or somethin,” McCree said, returning it to the homepage. “See, look.”

Hanzo looked. The system was straightforward; he didn’t really need a tutorial.

“Same as the ones in the cafeteria. Dinin’ room, whatever. Menu’s right there, ready for you to order, yeah?” McCree tapped the menu icon and proceeded to scan through the drinks section.

“Y’know, it even mixes. There’s a _lot_ of alcohol on this ship, variety-wise,” McCree said, choosing a drink for himself and looking proud of it. “You could have somethin’ different every single day for months if you just choose the right combinations.”

Hanzo stared at his glass. For a second he was amused at how all the beverages on the ship came in a cup of some sort, even if they were alcoholic. Then, through his not-completely-sober haze, he realized he was alone in his room with McCree and they were about to drink together. The implications of that were higher than what Hanzo had been prepared for, mostly because he hadn’t prepared himself for anything.

It wasn’t often he had a casual drink with someone, much less a person whom he didn’t know that well. And true to McCree’s joking word, there were some hilarious stories about Hanzo when he’d gotten drunk in the past. They were stories that Genji was willing to share on louder nights and stories that Hanzo never told anyone else unless he was inebriated himself.

But he could be casual. He could make small talk about the weather - it was nice out. He could talk and be friendly and not drink too much and talk some more. Maybe then McCree would leave him to his own devices and he could order more sake and spend the rest of the night in peace and quiet-

“Cheers!”

Hanzo blinked and, before he realized what was happening, took his refilled glass. McCree tipped his forward and clinked them together. He had a drink and Hanzo swallowed his reluctance before doing the same. 

“Tell me about yourself, darlin’.”

Hanzo was about to reply, but it struck him as odd that McCree was still standing. From the bed, Hanzo wondered if inviting McCree to sit beside him would be... weird. It didn’t matter; McCree pulled a chair out from the wall and sat by the little table. His body language said he was interested. He was conversational. Hanzo had a drink in his hand. This was the perfect time to talk and bond.

“My name is Hanzo Shimada. I am thirty-eight years old. I’ve killed some people in my life.”

McCree laughed. Hanzo didn’t see how his serious and true statements had been funny.

“Alright, I mean... s’pose that’s a start, if nothin’ else. I’ll play along if that helps. The name’s Jesse McCree, I’m thirty-seven, and I’ve killed some people, too.” He looked down at his cybernetic hand for a beat. “When I was done killin’ people for illegal purposes, well, I’ve been tryin’ to do better in life ever since.”

Hanzo made eye contact with McCree and held it. He wasn’t sure what to think. He wasn’t even sure if he’d say he was interested, but he had the feeling McCree could understand him on some level.

“Do you remember?” Hanzo asked, a little quieter. “The first person who died at your hands?”

McCree’s smile faded to something more sad. Almost morose, but not quite that upset. He swirled his glass and the ice cubes clinked against the side.

“Be hard to forget, darlin’,” he replied, his voice soft and barely there, like a down feather. “‘Course, I was just a kid. The sight, the guilt... it didn’t leave me for a long, long time. I thought I was doin’ what needed doin’, right? But I don’t think that’s the kinda thing that makes for good conversation.”

“No,” Hanzo said fiercely, startling McCree. He’d leaned forward to say that and settled back against the wall before continuing. “Please, tell me. I want to hear.”

“Well, if you insist,” McCree said, eyebrow raised. He looked surprised. It didn’t seem like he minded being asked, though. His eyes got a faraway look in them as he recalled his past.

“I was only fourteen when I officially joined the Deadlock Gang. Maybe you’ve heard of it, maybe not. From what I know ‘bout your family’s clan, they dealt in similar things, like totin’ illegal weapons here and there.” A shrug. “Sometimes a person needed to be killed and there was a lotta money involved if it could be done.

“It was all real hush-hush, but one day this lady who lived ‘round the area we worked in? Oh, she knew all of us. Ol’ Lady Quentin, they called her, as a nickname for whatever reason. Anyway, she needed someone killed and ain’t nobody wanted to do somethin’ as risky as helpin’ out a member of the community ‘stead of someone from a li’l ways over, someone who didn’t know as much about us. The gang had a bit a trust in her, but for her to have a hit on someone... that was a _big_ deal. A real precarious situation.”

McCree had another sip of his drink. He pulled the glass away from his lips, then shook his head.

“They gave the case to me. Kinda like a hazing, y’know? Kinda like a message sayin’ that: one, I was expendable; two, I had to prove myself. Fourteen year old me was all geared up to prove his usefulness. He couldn’t bear to be sent back to... to...” He frowned deeply. “To his old man back home.”

If Hanzo hadn’t been listening before, his attention would’ve been reined in immediately by that statement. His father had been strict but Hanzo had performed well and thus didn’t have many issues with the man. Still, to be scolded by him... Hanzo didn’t like to think about all the strain he’d put on himself to perform better. He’d resented Genji for a long time - well into young adulthood - because their father hadn’t ever been as hard on him as he had been on Hanzo.

“They knew I could shoot. It was why they let me on board at all, so they’d taught me a few tricks and I picked up a few of my own to boot. I was ready. I didn’t think a life of crime would be hard. I didn’t think that... to take a life... it’d be hard. I thought I was ready.”

Hanzo wished he had the words to reply with. He sipped his sake, trying to look as engaged as he felt.

“It was simple, right? The guy lived out in the desert, all alone. Don’t ask me why Quentin wanted him dead, that was never my business. It seemed almost too easy. Probably for the best, ‘cause I wasn’t experienced or nothin’ back then. I thought I was all that. I thought it’d take me a bit of time to get there, I’d shoot the guy, adjust the scene as instructed, then I’d be ridin’ right back to tell the gang it went over smoothly. We’d collect the rest of the cash, I’d get paid, it’d all be peachy.”

Hanzo set his empty glass on the table. McCree downed his and the ice cubes tapped his teeth before he put his glass down, too. And he proceeded to tell Hanzo, with some details embellished, the story of his first kill. It sounded dramatic. It sounded grisly. It was too realistic to sound like something out of a movie. Too messy.

“Hardly slept a wink the night after and hardly slept at all in the followin’ weeks,” McCree said, refilling his drink. “Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see his face again, and the blood. I’d hear it all again and I’d get real sick. There’s a play this guy wrote centuries ago called _Macbeth._ Ever read it?”

Hanzo shook his head.

“This guy and his wife kill another guy. It really gets to his wife’s head and she gets nightmares or somethin’, she’s wanderin’ around, sleepwalkin’ and tryin’ to wash her hands clean of the blood and guilt. Ends up killin’ herself,” McCree said. He took a deep breath. “Things coulda turned out like that for me, I think, if it weren’t for how grateful I was at bein’ accepted into the gang. Sure, they teased me plenty for bein’ a kid, but...” He smiled. “I’ll be honest, bein’ with the group made me feel like I found a new family... A _real_ family, even if we weren’t exactly nice people.”

At Hanzo’s silence, McCree said, “Sorry if that was too much oversharin’ for ya, darlin’.” He gave a half-smile. “Spec these ghosts’ll haunt me no matter how far I run from ‘em.”

Hanzo wasn’t sure what to say. “I asked,” he said. “It was certainly an interesting story.”

McCree nodded. “Ain’t make for good meal conversation, but it sure is somethin’ to think about otherwise.” His eyes widened. “Did I mention the guy turned out to be Quentin’s grandson?”

Hanzo was aghast. “No, you did not,” he said, feeling queasy. “She ordered her own grandson to be killed? She paid for that?”

“Quentin... wasn’t all right in the head. Old and senile type, y’know. Though I’ll be honest, I think she had ulterior motives. Been in prison a few times. Who knows, she mighta killed some folks herself.” McCree tipped his hat up and fixed Hanzo with a meaningful look. “But you ain’t no stranger to offin’ family, anyway.”

Hanzo glared down at his hands on his lap, his face burning with indignation. He took a deep breath before going to refill his sake.

“What about you, darlin’?”

“What about me?” Hanzo asked, poking at the drink menu. It was set on some type of whiskey, probably McCree’s drink choice.

“The first person you ever killed. There’s gotta be a story there.”

Hanzo pursed his lips, thought about it. “It’s a very brief one,” he replied.

“Mine was pretty long, so don’t worry about tryin’ to ramble for longer’n that.”

“Well I was born into a life of crime. My brother and I grew up learning skills that would enable us to kill someone in several different ways. Different... art forms, if you want to think about it poetically.” McCree chuckled at that. Hanzo continued, “I was only twelve.”

“One-uppin’ me already?” McCree teased.

“My father had _expectations._ He presented to me some woman whom he described as a lowlife prostitute drug addict. I didn’t exactly think about it for long, nor did I get the chance to before he ordered me to kill her. Simple as that.”

“And did’ja do it? Or maybe you sassed him back first?” McCree asked, looking very interested.

“I slit her throat and it was over. I thought it was a task that needed to be doing, and I basked in my father’s pride. I remember justifying it to myself, telling myself that I’d done her a favour. In death, her mortal vices would leave her. It was a while before I felt any real guilt about it. And by then, the list of people dead by my own hands had extended quite a bit.”

McCree shook his head ruefully. “That’s fucked up,” he said.

“Yes, it is. So do not feel bad for oversharing,” Hanzo said. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Kind of like... a bond had been made now, in exchanging their stories. But considering their stories were both about murdering people for the first time, Hanzo figured it wasn’t the best idea to put too much weight on it.

“Is Overwatch what you expected?” McCree asked.

“No. I suppose I assumed most of you would be like my brother, or like Jack and Gabriel decades ago. I was expecting more... heroism.”

McCree tipped the brim of his hat up to make eye contact. “Did you want to be a hero?”

Hanzo smiled at that, just barely. “Not at all. I was ready to grow up as a criminal and take over the clan for my father.” He looked down at his sake. “For a long time, that was how I thought it would go. It never occurred to me, when I was younger, to assume I had a destiny beyond these streets.”

“And now you’re back again.”

“And now I am back here again.”

“Spec the trade-off is that this time ‘round, you’ve got Genji with ya.”

“Yes...” Hanzo said, brow furrowing. “I often wonder how things would’ve turned out had he stuck around. Or perhaps if he’d died and I stuck around. Or if we’d both died.” He ran his thumb over the glass, feeling its coolness. “I will be honest. I think I would be better off dead.”

There was visible bewilderment on McCree’s face when Hanzo looked up again. He laughed, though it sounded hollow. His stomach was in knots.

Before McCree could stammer out a reply, Hanzo added, “You have to remember who I am and what I’ve done, Jesse. Many people have suffered at my hands, at the hands of my family. I still get nightmares about killing Genji.”

McCree winced. “Y’know, _most_ of us here have killed people before. You really ain’t the only one who’s got heavy sins to atone for,” he said. The words were insistent, though they lacked a hard edge to them.

“Only death will purge us of these regrets, Jesse,” Hanzo said before taking a swallow of his drink.

“That’s an awful dark way to look at it, but I suppose yain’t entirely wrong there.”

There was quiet for a while. Hanzo sipped his sake. McCree seemed to be deep in thought. The ice cubes in his whiskey were melting. From the wall’s touchscreen panel came a gentle chime as the clock display read 00:00 on top of a starry midnight sky.

“It’s not really the same when respawn catches ya, is it?” he asked quietly.

Hanzo closed his eyes. “No, it’s not,” he said. He watched McCree take a long drink and conFtinued looking. “I don’t think we’ll understand death until it’s time to experience it.”

The whiskey burned going down and McCree placed his glass back on the table with more care than necessary. His fingers were cold and wet from the condensation. He wiped his hand on his pants. He felt a surge of feelings unfurl within him. Something akin to hopelessness, something he was familiar with but it didn’t feel so bad, not with Hanzo in front of him. His presence was reassuring. McCree straightened, noticed Hanzo was staring, and looked away immediately. His face grew warmer.

“Is something the matter?” Hanzo asked, sliding his glass over the table. It clinked against McCree’s before stopping. 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” McCree mumbled, refocusing his attention on the drink menu.

“If you say so.”

Under the touchscreen panel, part of the wall slid away and McCree set the drink into the space. It was secured at the base with a click before more sake poured in. The wall’s drink device reminded McCree of a picture of a fridge model D.Va had showed him once. It dispensed ice cubes from the door, though McCree didn’t recall if it also dispensed alcohol. _That_ would be pretty damn convenient.

“Jesse?”

“Huh?” McCree asked, startled out of his scattered thoughts.

“You’ve been staring at the wall for a while,” Hanzo said, looking concerned.

“Don’t worry about me, darlin’.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Hanzo muttered. “If you want to try it, you may.”

“Your drink?”

“Yes?”

Hanzo looked quizzical. McCree cursed himself for not paying attention, but now he had to say yes or it’d seem rude.

“Sure, why not,” he said, tapping a button on the touchscreen to release the drink. It clicked and he retrieved it. “What’d you say this was again?” he asked before taking a sip.

“Rice wine,” Hanzo said. “It’s made by fermenting rice.”

McCree had a swallow before putting it back down. “It’s not bad,” he said, nodding in pleasant surprise.

“Well you are already drunk,” Hanzo said as he took his drink.

“Maybe a little,” McCree said, refilling his own glass of whiskey.

“Your words are blending together and your face is all red. I think you should have some water.”

“Aw, c’mon darlin’. Party’s just gettin’ started and I can hold my alcohol.”

“If you say so,” Hanzo said, though he looked rather unconvinced. “You’ve had three by now, though.”

“Well you’ve had... four. I ain’t countin’, but that sounds about right.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “Whiskey is stronger than wine,” he pointed out.

McCree couldn’t exactly refute that because it was true. He fixed his gaze on his diminished ice cubes.

“Say, darlin’,” McCree said.

Hanzo didn’t reply, but he looked up.

“You wanna go out?”

“What?”

McCree tipped his head down so his hat would shield his face. He covered his mouth with his hand then cleared his throat.

“I mean... outside. If you wanna see the top of the ship.”

“Hm. And how do you plan on getting up there?” Hanzo asked. “I suppose I could climb, but I’m not carrying you.”

McCree laughed and it felt good to do so. “There’s a hatch or two ‘round here leadin’ to the top. Usually for emergency exit purposes, but we’ve had ourselves a few nice picnics when the weather’s fine.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Hanzo said, mostly because he wanted to get out of his room. It was stifling - though that might’ve been the heat from drinking.

“Might wanna leave the drinks behind, just in case,” McCree said. He threw most of his back and almost choked. Hanzo tried not to laugh as he put his back on the table.

McCree stood, adjusted his hat, and yawned, stretching his arms. His sweater was pulled up, exposing his midriff. Hanzo wondered if that was one of his seduction tactics. It might’ve been subtle had it not been so cliché.

“Don’t stare at me,” McCree teased, winking.

Damn it.

“Move,” Hanzo snapped, getting off the bed and pushing it back into the wall. He left the table where it was. He could clear the glasses later.

McCree laughed as he exited. Hanzo joined him in the hall and locked his door. He was sure Genji had noticed the stolen article of clothing, but Hanzo didn’t want to give him a chance to retaliate and grab something from his drawers out of spite.

“Which way?” he asked, following McCree out of the hallway.

“This way,” McCree said.

Hanzo stumbled and McCree caught him by the arm.

“You okay?” he asked. His hat was askew on his head.

“Yes,” Hanzo said, feeling embarrassed as he righted himself. “Let’s keep going.”

“Be nice to get some fresh air, wouldn’t it?” McCree said. He was walking noticeably closer now. Their elbows bumped and Hanzo had to stop himself from jerking his arm away.

“It would. The air on the ship does not circulate well enough.”

McCree nodded in agreement. “Don’t think it could rival outside air even if it did,” he said. “Hey, let’s check the common room and see if anyone’s around.”

“Sure,” Hanzo said, wishing he still had his glass with him.

He could feel that his steps were uneven and his mind was a little foggy. But if he was tipsy, that was nothing compared to McCree. He was slurring most of his words and when they were walking, it was easy to tell he wasn’t exactly walking straight. Maybe they should’ve brought snacks.

“Hey, everybody,” McCree said, giving a little wave to the room.

Mercy, Pharah and Reinhardt were sitting on the big couch. Zarya and Mei were asleep on one of the armchairs. Tracer and D.Va were sitting on the floor, ordering food from the coffee table. Everyone looked comfortable and relaxed, either in their casual clothes or pyjamas.

“Good evening, Jesse,” Mercy said. “Hanzo,” she added, fixing Hanzo with a meaningful look as she often did.

“All right?” Tracer greeted.

“Did you come to join us for another movie?” Reinhardt asked.

“Naw, just passin’ by. Wanted to show Hanzo the roof.”

D.Va seemed to be the first to notice McCree was drunk off his ass. She gasped, looking delighted, but didn’t get the chance to point it out before Mercy spoke again.

“Are you sure?” she asked, smiling. “The other armchair is free if you two would like to watch the next movie with us.”

Hanzo caught the implication, glaring at her. McCree didn’t. It was easy to see that the armchair wouldn’t seat them both unless they were willing to cuddle like Zarya with Mei on her lap, who were two very cozy-looking ice bears in their sleep.

Mercy looked away. It was obvious she was suppressing laughter.

“We’ll be fine, thank you very much,” Hanzo said.

“Are you sure?” Reinhardt asked, though he was looking over D.Va’s shoulder to see what she was ordering. “I picked something I watched when I was a child. A classic, really.”

“What is it?” McCree asked before Hanzo could decline.

“Something with a talking yellow sponge,” D.Va said, confirming the order. “Dunno why this stuff’s considered _classic._ The special effects aren’t even that good.”

“It could be funny, Hana,” Tracer said with a giggle.

“You’ll love it, I promise,” Reinhardt replied, looking sure of himself. “Wait, you forgot the sashimi Angela wanted.”

D.Va cursed in Korean, tapping furiously at the table again.

“Where’d the others all head off to? Don’t they usually love movie nights?” McCree asked.

“Jamison, Satya, Jack, and Gabriel were here earlier,” Pharah replied.

“I think Mako’s at the arcade. Lúci’s got jams to mix and master. Jamie left for a late night snack alone,” D.Va said. “Satya’s off to bed.” She grinned, looking up and looking very excited. “Jack and Gabi left _together.”_

“They were arguing again,” Pharah said, pursing her lips.

“I would hope they are both in bed now. They need their rest,” Mercy said with a shake of her head.

“They might be in bed, but the question is: whose?” D.Va said.

“Don’t poke into their private affairs, Hana,” Reinhardt said with a frown.

“Hana, please,” Mercy said. Disapproval was written all over her features.

“What were they arguin’ about? Gabriel always did like to bring up pointless shit,” McCree said.

“Nothing we need to concern ourselves with,” Mercy said firmly. “That’s up to them to sort out themselves.”

“About which bread spread is the best. Jack really likes peanut butter, did you know?” D.Va asked, eyes bright.

 _“Hana,”_ Mercy repeated.

McCree gave a noncommittal shrug. “Winston’d agree if he was around,” he said.

“He would!” Tracer exclaimed. D.Va nodded fervently.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Hanzo said. He added, quieter, to McCree, “Let’s _go.”_

“Yain’t gotta be in such a hurry, darlin’,” McCree said with a lighthearted laugh.

Hanzo grabbed him by the crook of the the arm and pulled him through the common room. McCree gave a farewell wave to the room, returned by Tracer and Pharah. Mercy was scolding D.Va, who didn’t seem to be listening.

They dipped into a hallway - matte black walls, blue lighting, like the rest. They all looked the same, Hanzo wasn’t sure how he’d yet to hear about anyone getting lost. Maybe they had the layout memorized already, or had gotten used to it while he’d avoided walking around and getting to know the place.

“Do you know where you’re going?” he asked, wanting to break the silence.

McCree smiled and kept walking. “‘Course I do. I’ve been all over this ship, y’know. Back with Blackwatch, Gabriel and I, along with some other people we worked with, lived on a ship kinda like this one for a few months.”

“And... that helps you now?”

“Well, no. S’pose not, ‘cause they _are_ still different ships and all. But don’t worry, darlin’.”

“I was not worrying,” Hanzo muttered. That was a lie; he was worried. While his nerves were dampened some by the effects of alcohol, it was nonetheless obvious to him that McCree wasn’t exactly in top shape at the moment. He’d gone from passably sober to the opposite in no time.

“Hey, look, there’s our man of the night!” McCree exclaimed.

Hanzo looked down the corridor. Sure enough, Reaper was exiting a room. He was in a casual outfit just like D.Va’s - shorts and hoodie, but he had his hood on. He was still wearing the mask, though. Hanzo thought he looked ridiculous.

At the sound of McCree’s voice, Reaper had turned and Hanzo could only guess at the expression he was wearing under the mask.

“Gabriel! Hey, how’re you doin’ tonight?” McCree asked, approaching him. Hanzo followed close behind, nervous that something might go down. Bad things tended to happen around drunk people.

“Fine,” Reaper replied in his almost growl of a voice.

“Well, shit, y’don’t sound fine,” McCree said.

“How drunk are you right now?” Reaper asked. He sounded... disgusted? Concerned, underneath that?

“Hey, I only had a few drinks. Hanzo can vouch for me, can’t you, darlin’?” McCree asked, turning to Hanzo at his side.

“I think we should go now, Jesse,” Hanzo said to him quietly, not taking his eyes off of Reaper.

Reaper made a head motion that would’ve gone nicely with an eye roll. “And stop bothering me at night,” he said, words tinged with irritation. “If you’ll excuse me-”

“What’ve you been up to, anyway?” McCree asked.

Reaper stiffened visibly. “That’s none of your business, Jesse,” he said.

McCree looked hurt. Or maybe he was about to throw up. “C’mon, Gabriel.” He lapsed into Spanish: “[Your business _used_ to be my business.]”

Reaper was taken aback by his boldness, and perhaps by whatever he’d said. Hanzo didn’t understand enough Spanish to follow the slurred sentence. And the little he did know wouldn’t have helped him very much in the ensuing, rapid fire argument.

“[What happened in the past stays in the past. Those were your own words,]” Reaper snapped.

“[We don’t even talk nowadays. I’ve tried, Gabriel. It’s like you’ve been avoiding me and that’s pretty damn immature of you. You have something against burying the hatchet?]”

“[Did it ever occur to you that I don’t _want_ to talk to you? Just because we worked together once doesn’t mean we have to be...]” Reaper trailed off, then spat out, _“[Friends.]”_

“[Well why not? We’re supposed to be working together. Do you still hold the past against me? I didn’t do anything to you!]”

“[You _left._ You wanting no part of the infighting but you knew I needed your support. And you didn’t help me. You left without saying goodbye, without saying a damn thing. I don’t have to forgive you. The fact that you didn’t care enough, that you didn’t trust my word enough to stick by my side, told me all I needed to know about you as a person.]”

McCree winced. There was a tense silence before he spoke again, quietly:

“[Listen, Gabriel...]”

“[What could you possibly have to say to me now? This isn’t something we need to be discussing, much less at this moment when you’re drunk and trying to get in bed with _him,]”_ Reaper said with a nod towards Hanzo, who frowned at the gesture. “[I can work with you, Jesse, in a team if we need to. I’m here because what I had against Overwatch is out of my system. I can cooperate with you and everyone else in a team if I have to, and I can be professional about it. But don’t you dare think for even an instant that I have to give you closure while I’m here.]”

“[How many more times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?]” McCree asked, shaking his head.

Reaper laughed, but it wasn’t joyous laughter. “[About a thousand more times and you might be getting somewhere. Stop bothering me. Live your own life,]” he said. “[Quit pretending you need me at your side to do it.]” He crossed his arms and Hanzo noticed he was still wearing clawed gloves, though not the armored gauntlets he wore on the field. Was that blood on the tips?

“[You’re right, I don’t need you,]” McCree said, looking calmer than before. “[I just thought that what we had meant more than a petty feud or grudge.]”

“[We were _friends,_ Jesse. Friends at best. Don’t ever read further into it than that.]”

McCree held his hands up defensively. “[I know that,]” he said, sounding taken aback. “[I’m not so dense as to assume it wasn’t platonic.]” But now he smiled, and Hanzo felt the mood in the air shift.

Reaper snarled. “Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” he said.

“[You never got over him and I knew that, okay? I knew that. You acted like he didn’t matter to you, but you underestimated how well I could read you.]”

“[Jesse, if you don’t stop talking, I swear...]”

McCree shrugged, stuffed his hands in his sweatpants’ pockets with an air of nonchalance. “[Even now, it’s obvious. Hana jokes about it all the time when you’re not around, but if she only knew how accurate her jokes are...]” he said, letting the sentence dangle not unlike a casual threat.

Reaper lunged forward - one of his claws scraped the wall, leaving a visible mark - and Hanzo reacted first, planting his hands firmly on the angry man’s shoulders.

“He’s drunk, Gabriel,” Hanzo said. “He’s not trying to antagonize you. Just leave him be.”

“I’ll kill him myself, I fucking swear it,” Reaper hissed.

“He will have no memory of this conversation in the morning,” Hanzo said, not letting go of Reaper’s shoulders.

“Useless fucking bastard.” Reaper was shaking and his back was smoking. He was seething with rage, it seemed.

“Take a deep breath. We’ll go now, okay?” Hanzo asked, loosening his grip.

“Evenin’, Jack,” McCree drawled.

Reaper froze. Hanzo looked past Reaper’s head.

“Something going on here?” Soldier: 76 asked from behind Reaper.

“No,” Hanzo replied, quickly backing away and dropping his hands. “We were just about to leave. It’s been nice speaking to you, Gabriel. Jack.”

McCree smiled and waved hello. Soldier: 76 returned the wave.

“Let’s _go,_ Jesse,” Hanzo whispered, grabbing McCree’s arm and pulling him down the hallway.

“This way,” McCree said, tugging his arm to lead Hanzo in a different direction that he followed.

When they were definitely out of earshot, McCree said, “Y’know, Jack came outta the same room that Gabriel did.”

Hanzo stopped and his eyes widened. “I did not notice,” he said. Had that been Soldier: 76’s blood on his gloves? After some silence, he let go of McCree’s arm, having forgotten he was still holding it. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Don’t think Gabriel was real happy when I said what I did.”

“He was ready to attack you,” Hanzo said, raising an eyebrow at the understatement.

“Yeah, he does that sometimes,” McCree said, as if attacking coworkers was just a normal part of everyday life. Well, Hanzo supposed he wasn’t exactly wrong there.

“All that yellin’ really rattled my brain. What were we gonna do again?” McCree asked.

Hanzo stared at him. “You led us here,” he said.

“Oh, right, sure did. And...?”

Hanzo inhaled and exhaled. “The roof,” he prompted.

“Right, right. Almost forgot. Hard not to when there’re nicer things to focus on,” he said with a wink.

Hanzo chose not to encourage him, especially not considering his current state.

“Let’s go get some fresh air. That might help clear your head,” he said.

With that, they were headed down the ship again.

“You think they’re gonna get back together again?” McCree asked.

“It’s not my business to say,” Hanzo said. “Wait... what do you mean ‘again’?”

McCree grinned. “Spec they kept it pretty wrapped up, but Jack and Gabriel dated when they were both in the army’s ‘enhancement program’ and continued through the Omnic Crisis. Then Jack was appointed the first official commander of Overwatch and everything went to shit. Even I can’t tell you all the details there, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

Hanzo thought about it. Some of the story he’d heard. It was part of major world history, after all. And this drama had broken apart the organization? Absurd.

“Gabriel was jealous?” Hanzo guessed.

McCree hummed thoughtfully. “For a while, yeah, I think that was part of it. I’d say it was his right, in some ways. Job should’a been his, and I ain’t the only one to share that opinion, but I am pretty biased. It was Gabriel who really knew everyone inside Overwatch and what they were up to, which ain’t to say that Jack didn’t have a lot goin’ on too, ‘cause he did.”

They entered the cockpit. There was a vaguely familiar woman with green hair in a neat bun, flipping through a magazine.

“Good evenin’, Cypress.”

The woman looked up. She wore rectangular glasses and had a twinkle in her eyes as she smiled.

“It’s midnight, Jesse. Good to see you, though - and you too, Hanzo,” she said with a nod to Hanzo.

“Hello,” he said, giving a polite bow, partially out of habit. “I like your hair.”

“Thank you. I was going for a natural look.”

Hanzo squinted at the joke before he got it. Cypress laughed.

“Cypress is our pilot,” McCree said. “Y’know, her twin sister Juniper was there when Overwatch first wrangled me in, and she’s got blue hair. But that’s a story for another day. Where’s your co-pilot, miss?”

“We sleep in shifts, but he’ll be free if you need him later. How can I help you?” Cypress asked.

“Just wanted to show Hanzo the way up to the roof. Uh, without triggering any alarm bells, yeah?”

“Sure,” Cypress said with a nod of understanding. “To your right over there, flick that switch on the wall to unlock the hatch and climb up the ladder.”

“Appreciate it,” McCree said with a smile before turning to inspect the wall and do as told.

He climbed up, opened the hatch, and pulled himself up to the roof. Hanzo was about to follow him when he heard the pilot speak again.

“Hey, Hanzo. Is he drunk?” she asked.

Hanzo sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” he said. “I will keep an eye on him.”

“Just knock if you need me or if he skids right over the edge,” Cypress said before returning to her magazine.

The words were not reassuring. Hanzo was swift in his ascent and in moments the cool spring breeze was upon him. The sky was clearer than it appeared on the ship’s touchscreens. It was like a vast tapestry above, woven with glittering stars. It was a nice night to be outside.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” McCree asked when he saw the content look on Hanzo’s face.

Hanzo nodded. McCree held his gaze for a little longer.

“So, uh...” he said. He cleared his throat and tried again, turning to the sky as well. “How... how’re you doin’? Stomach been treatin’ you well?”

Hanzo closed his eyes and _smiled._ McCree’s breath hitched and for an impossibly long couple of seconds, he forgot everything and everyone but the man in front of him. 

“I will be fine, Jesse,” Hanzo said, giving McCree a look that made him light up and melt. “I can handle alcohol. I know my limits. You should worry about yourself.”

McCree huffed softly, shaking his head. “Don’t think Gabriel’s gonna be real happy to see me tomorrow mornin’, and I can’t blame him. I’m plenty worried ‘bout the shit I say ‘fore I can stop myself from sayin’ it.”

Hanzo looked concerned and it embarrassed McCree to have someone concerned about him, even if they were both inebriated.

“Let’s rest and forget our troubles for a li’l while, darlin’,” McCree said.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Hanzo asked.

McCree wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, was that an invitation in his voice? Hanzo couldn’t really tell, either. He couldn’t lie to his tipsy self; McCree was attractive. But that didn’t mean Hanzo was going to hold him any closer than arm’s length.

“Here,” McCree said, pulling his makeshift scarf off. The patterned red cloth was frayed at the ends and a hole had gone unmended. McCree got down on a knee, flapped it like a blanket, and let it flutter down to the roof of the ship. He went ahead and lied down on his back before patting the unoccupied half of blanket beside him with his cybernetic hand.

Hanzo hesitated, realized how rude it’d be to decline, and got down on the roof to lay beside McCree. The serape - makeshift blanket, now - smelled like gunpowder. And McCree. It made Hanzo hyperaware of how close they were. Not touching, but close. The cold surface of the ship beneath was made a little less cold by the fabric.

“Remember the days we could see a whole spray of stars in the sky?” McCree asked.

“No,” Hanzo answered, because he didn’t. “The sky has always looked like this on a cloudless night. Dark with a few stars.”

“There ain’t many places where you can still see ‘em all, but they’re out there. Get out far enough, away from the light pollution, and... it’s like you’re under a whole new sky.”

Hanzo scanned the night with a wistful look on his face.

“I’ll take you to Canada one day,” McCree said. He sounded sleepy but he also sounded like he meant it. “Jasper, Alberta.”

“A camping trip?” Hanzo asked just to entertain McCree’s intriguing line of thought.

“Yeah. Maybe for a few nights. I’ll shoot you a rabbit for dinner,” McCree said, grinning.

“I don’t think they’ll let us bring our guns there,” Hanzo said. “Set a snare instead.”

“I’ll nail it with a slingshot. Can’t let you go hungry out in the wilderness, darlin’.”

“I’ll carve a makeshift bow and put your slingshot to shame.”

McCree laughed. For a while, neither of them said anything. The breeze ruffled their clothes and hair and the edge of the serape.

“Hanzo,” McCree said, his voice on the brink of whisper-quiet.

He turned to see Hanzo asleep. He looked peaceful. Less plagued by whatever made him frown and furrow his brow all the time. McCree hoped he’d sleep well. His own eyelids were heavy and his words were a ghost of a breath, immediately blown away by the gentle wind.

“You believe in love at first sight, darlin?” he asked with a faint smile. He shifted to his side, faced Hanzo, and brought a hand up, brushing the back of his pointer finger against Hanzo’s cheek.

Hanzo stirred, and McCree retreated his hand.

“[Gen-... is someone... something...?]” Hanzo’s murmurs trailed off.

“You’re safe here. Go back to sleep, darlin’.”

“[Okay. Thank you.]”

McCree fell asleep soon after Hanzo did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ if yaint never thief no shit from ur siblings i dont get ur life. least realistic part of this chapter? neither mccree nor hanzo had to pee like ten fucking times while drinking
> 
> “hai. arigato gozaimasu.”
> 
> i can resume the traditional post-chapter fanart linking now!: [really sweet comic to kick things off](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147207030181/minghii-a-really-sappy-comic-that-turned-from-a), [i like this one a lot](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147180630871/hollyoakhill-i-slapped-some-colour-on-a-sketch), [this one’s adorable](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/146913807421/fishbowltwo-taking-a-quick-break-from), [something great from francis who is fucking great](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/146726140666/francisxie-im-mchanzo-trash), [this one’s also from francis](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/146348107236/francisxie-mchanzo-reaper76-double-dating), and [one last great piece of art!](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/146180961336/kingsdarga-just-bros-gettin-drunk-bein-bros)


	3. Vicissitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'why do you have non-canon characters dave'
> 
> i think overwatch can afford to _not_ tell their agents to pilot the ship themselves //

Hanzo woke to a cool breeze on his face. His head hurt - just a little bit - but otherwise he felt fine. Groggy, though. He blinked, focused his gaze, and saw the stars above. The night was later than when he’d fallen asleep. He guessed it was around three or four o’clock. To his right, there was body heat. Hanzo turned his head to see McCree sleeping on his side, facing him. He’d curled up some, and his forehead rested against Hanzo’s shoulder.

Hanzo might’ve tried going back to sleep, even as his cheeks flushed, but he really needed to pee. As delicately as possible, he pulled away before getting up and climbing down the side of the ship. He jogged towards the buildings in the distance, and chose an unlocked ramen shop’s washroom to do his business in. He washed his hands and splashed his face with water. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Hanzo felt a little weird. It was late.

Walking back to the ship, he wondered if he should wake McCree or let him sleep and go back to bed in the comfort of his own bedroom. Hanzo shook his head. He was so tired, but he managed to scale the ship.

His hair scarf fluttered in the wind and he smoothed his half of the serape. Hanzo really didn’t want to wake McCree, not now. Hanzo sat. He thought. He reached forward and brushed hair out of McCree’s face.

“Are you sleeping well?” Hanzo asked quietly.

He closed his eyes, rubbed his head. He felt a jolt of... daring? Before he could stop himself, he was lying back down. He had a feeling that if McCree woke up and he wasn’t there, he’d at least be a little worried. Hanzo huffed. Maybe that was his own ego talking. He didn’t press back up against McCree’s head, but just when Hanzo was starting to feel sleep drape over him again, McCree shifted and his forehead was back against Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo took a deep breath.

 

McCree woke to pinpricks of light dancing over his eyelids. He opened his eyes to be greeted by the morning’s rising sun. The sky was awash with streaks of rich orange and red chasing away steel blue. It took him a few moments to remember where he was - the roof of the ship, his serape under him. His surroundings were still dark, despite the ship’s height. He could see Hanamura silhouetted in the near distance before a flash of worry seized him.

“Hanzo?” he asked.

Hanzo had been at his side, and now - maybe he’d rolled off in his sleep? The half of the serape he’d been laying on was now over McCree’s torso like a blanket. Shit, that’d be awful, and- oh. He was sitting up, watching the sunrise, drink in hand. But upon hearing McCree, he turned.

“Good morning,” he said. “Would you like some tea?”

McCree rubbed his eyes with his non-cybernetic hand and scooched over to sit by Hanzo’s side. There was a teapot along with some empty cups in front of him.

“Uh, sure,” McCree said.

Hanzo poured some tea into a cup and handed it over.

“Thanks, darlin’.” He sipped. It was hot. “What is this?”

“Jasmine,” Hanzo replied. “Mei picked it up on our stop in China, from a restaurant.”

“I like it,” McCree said.

They watched the sunrise together for a while. Hanzo was about to refill McCree’s empty cup when McCree stopped him.

“Er, don’t worry about that,” he said. Hanzo looked up and McCree smiled. “I better hunt down the nearest bush or toilet before I have any more.”

Hanzo gave him a look.

“Alright, I won’t go in the bushes. I was just jokin’,” McCree said.

“That restaurant is open,” Hanzo said, pointing at the ramen place not too far away.

“Ain’t that convenient. Now would I even get down from here?”

Hanzo glanced at the hatch they’d climbed out of then shrugged. “I climbed down the side myself earlier to get the tea,” he said, not elaborating on how he’d gotten the whole tea set up to the roof.

“I... don’t think I can do that,” McCree said.

“It will be simple. I will climb down first, then you step onto that small ledge there to use as a foothold. I will catch you.”

“Really?”

Hanzo laughed. “No,” he said. “No, definitely not.”

McCree might’ve been mildly offended had the sound of Hanzo laughing not just lit a fire inside of him.

“Just knock for the pilot or co-pilot if the door is locked. I’m sure they’ll let you in.”

“Good idea.”

McCree walked over to the door, kneeled, and rapped his knuckles against it. He knocked again and a third time before a shout came from below.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Jesse! Open up, I really need to use the bathroom.”

The door clicked and McCree tried it. It opened.

“Thanks, pardner,” he called down before climbing in. “Hanzo, you comin’?” he asked.

Hanzo was about to decline when his stomach rumbled. “Yes,” he said, getting up and following McCree into the cockpit.

“This is the co-pilot of the ship,” McCree said when Hanzo landed. “His call sign’s Skybait, which is ten times better than everyone else’s ‘cept for Mercy’s.”

The co-pilot dubbed Skybait, sitting where Cypress had sat last night, waved hello. His hair was short with dark curls.

“Morning, Jesse,” he said before turning to Hanzo with a nod, “And good morning to you, too, Hanzo.”

“Didn’t mean to bother you so early in the morning, pardner,” McCree said.

“Don’t worry about it. I was awake for my shift anyway, and it wasn’t as if I had more important things to do than watching the third season of Snake House.”

“I love that show. Hanzo, we gotta watch that sometime,” McCree said, patting Hanzo’s shoulder. “But for now... Really gotta use the bathroom. Okay if I use the one in here?”

Skybait shrugged. “Go for it,” he said.

“I’ll be right back then,” McCree said.

“I’m going to get some food,” Hanzo said, dipping out.

He headed for the dining room, where he’d be able to order some food to go. He considered having breakfast alone, but he didn’t want the tea to get cold. Sure he could always order more tea from the ship, but as he’d discussed once with Genji, Mei, and Symmetra, it just wasn’t the same. Hanzo had left his stash with Genji’s, Mei and Symmetra had their own. He remembered D.Va had been present for the chat and thought they were all too picky. If she wanted tea - which was rare - she’d just take what the ship had to offer. Less fuss that way.

“Kids,” Symmetra had said dismissively, to which Hanzo had given a nod of agreement.

The dining room was almost empty. Apt, considering it was around 5 AM. But Junkrat was sitting alone, munching on some cereal with milk. He was watching a show, holographically projected from his phone. It was playing out loud, but Hanzo couldn’t really be annoyed at that when there was literally no one else in the room.

“Good morning,” Hanzo said.

Junkrat looked up, paused his video.

“G’day,” he said. “Why the hell’re you here? Go back to bed!”

Hanzo frowned. “I could say the same to you,” he said.

“Don’t sleep very well on this thing,” Junkrat said with a shrug.

“I keep thinking they’re going to arrest us,” Hanzo said, tapping at the nearest menu without taking a seat.

“Right? They keep goin’ on and on about how they can use our skills, but we’re still criminals!” Junkrat exclaimed. “It’d be so easy, there are more of them than us.”

“Then why take the risk of joining this training program?” Hanzo asked, swiping through pages of food.

“These tasks pay pretty well,” Junkrat said, grinning. “They need us more than they’ll ever admit.”

“I do not agree. We are of use to them, but only just enough for them to give us a chance.”

“Ain’t that a downer?” Junkrat asked. He huffed, stabbing his spoon back into the bowl. “Say, where’s your brother? You don’t come around tryin’ to make nice that often, do ya now?”

“I assume he’s asleep,” Hanzo said. “Most of the people on this ship would be asleep.”

“Well why aren’t you?”

“I wake up around this time most days.”

“Geez,” Junkrat said. He shook his head as if that was the most horrible thing, despite the fact that he, too, was awake now.

Hanzo took a deep breath. “What are you watching?” he asked in the most conversational tone he could muster. It didn’t sound all that friendly.

“Right now? Three Castles. It’s about these three different groups of crooks and a buncha stuff happens and people get killed and blow up! It’s me favourite show, even if these crime guys aren’t doin’ all the right things here.”

Hanzo gave a huff of amusement. He supposed that was relatable enough. Though he didn’t watch many shows himself, more than a few criminal tactics had received an eye roll from him. They were just so _unrealistic._

“Enjoy your show,” Hanzo said, picking up utensils and the containers of food he’d ordered for breakfast.

“Later,” Junkrat called as Hanzo left.

Hanzo returned to the cockpit shortly after, said hello to Skybait, climbed back up to the ship’s roof. The sun was a nice burst of yellow against steel blue.

“Oh, hey. Almost thought you’d gone off to eat alone and left me with your teacups,” McCree said. He paused then started laughing. “So _that’s_ how you climb up here while carryin’ stuff.”

Hanzo had fashioned a temporary backpack with Genji’s t-shirt and his hair tie scarf. He removed the bag, sat down, and disassembled it.

“It’s come in handy,” was all he said.

“Well if it means you can tote things around usin’ no more than the shirt on your back and that scarf, I can see how,” McCree said, not hiding his stare. “Brought up a bite or two?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said, setting the boxes down before pulling the t-shirt back on.

“Mighty kind of ya. What’d you order?”

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I picked the American breakfast food.”

“S’pose that’s fitting enough. I ain’t picky, darlin’.” McCree said, picking up the box and a fork. “Y’know, you look nice with your hair down.”

Hanzo’s face went red and he looked aside.

They ate and lounged as the sun made its upward climb. Hanzo poured more tea. He shared some apple tarts with McCree and told him about how Mercy was very fond of them, but the ones she’d baked once were better than the ones from the ship. McCree talked about American apple pie served with ice cream, then about sweet tea and rattlesnake fillet which wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Hanzo countered with fugu fish, which, despite being deadly and not to mention rather bland without sauce, still pulled tourists in for the thrill of it.

“You ever think about travellin’ the world?” McCree asked, tossing his fork and knife back into the box.

“I have traveled,” Hanzo said before pulling the t-shirt off again. “After what happened with Genji, I left the clan. For a long time, I traveled the world.” He placed the boxes on top of the shirt and began wrapping them up again. “It was nice, actually. I met different people and tried different food and lived in many different places, learning how to perfect my skills as a warrior.”

“Weren’t you a mercenary?” McCree asked.

“Yes, I killed some people, too,” Hanzo said. He raised an eyebrow. “How do you think I got the money to travel worldwide?”

“Lord. Spec there ain’t no training like learnin’ it all hands-on.”

“I'm kidding. I have a lot of money to travel with,” Hanzo said, making McCree smile.

“Did you travel after leaving Overwatch?”

McCree nodded. “Went underground for a while. Didn’t want... didn’t want Reyes or any of the others askin’ for me. ‘Course, plenty of ‘em are dead now. But I resurfaced a few years later, ready to work as a hired gun, ‘cept I only took jobs I thought were just. Jobs where I felt like people would benefit from it.” He pointed at the buildings of Hanamura ahead. “I was here briefly. Stopped a robbery at the noodle joint.”

“You visited Hanamura?”

“Yeah. Thought maybe I could run into Genji, one of the few non-Blackwatch members of Overwatch I ended up trustin’, but all I found was a bunch of assholes tryin’ to rob a _ramen shop_ of all goddamn places.”

Hanzo tied his scarf bundle back up and pulled it over his shoulder. “I know the people who work there. You did the right thing,” he said, standing.

McCree flapped his serape before putting it back on.

“Think Angela’s awake yet?” he asked.

Hanzo shook his head. “She wakes up later than 5 o’clock,” he said.

“She was still up when we were stumblin’ round the halls, but I’d wager everyone fell asleep during Reinhardt’s movie.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?” McCree asked, peering at Hanzo.

“Wager that.”

McCree’s eyes widened then he shook his head. “Aw, no. Hell naw, I ain’t a betting man. C’mon, Hanzo,” he said.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have won anyway,” he said.

“Good thing I didn’t take it then,” McCree said, smiling. “What makes you think that, anyway?”

Hanzo adjusted his scarf bundle. “I’m good at making money. You’re a criminal. You’d understand,” he said.

 _“Reformed_ criminal,” McCree corrected. “But I know what type of person you mean. Some people always win. Some people just never lose.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Hanzo asked, brow furrowing.

“I can assure you it ain’t. Now let’s get back downstairs.”

Hanzo walked over to the edge of the roof, slid down where it angled, swung over, and climbed down. McCree, watching and now seeing Hanzo standing with his arms crossed, looking up, frowned. Hanzo waved. Was that supposed to be a challenge? McCree wondered if he could survive the 25-foot drop.

He went and copied Hanzo’s movements - sliding over the angled portion of the roof, catching the edge with his hand, finding a foothold on the ledge right below.

“Jesse, what are you doing?” Hanzo yelled.

“Gettin’ down, what’s it look like?” McCree replied.

“You’re going to fall!”

“Swear I won’t. You’d be surprised what this arm and hand can do! It’s got magnetic capabilities, y’know?”

He could just barely hear Hanzo cursing in Japanese as he managed to make it down another 2 feet, gripping the ship.

 _Just don’t look down,_ he thought to himself. His serape fluttered.

“Climb back up or something! If you drop from that height you’ll break something!”

“I _swear_ I won’t fall!” McCree’s fingers were aching but he was doing it. Who knew it’d be so easy to climb down a giant ship? Well, Hanzo and Genji probably knew, but otherwise...

“I would bet against it!”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t jinx me like that,” McCree muttered.

He felt another foothold and lowered himself a bit further. Hanzo was glancing to the side as if contemplating getting help. McCree’s cybernetic arm hummed. The pull of it towards the ship’s surface was strong enough to reassure McCree he’d be fine. He just had to go slowly.

“How are you doing, Jesse?”

Hanzo still sounded extremely worried. It was endearing.

“Just fine!”

McCree was about halfway to the ground now. He looked down and felt an immediate surge of nausea as he realized how high up he was. Hanzo was pacing now, shaking his head and muttering to himself. McCree regretted climbing down as his arm shook with the effort of supporting him.

 _Easy now..._ he thought, stretching for the next ledge. The air was cold. McCree shivered and made the mistake of releasing his cybernetic arm from the surface of the ship before securing his foothold.

He slipped. He shouted something, maybe a curse, maybe just a cry of surprise or fear.

Hanzo froze, horrified. Then he growled in frustration, determination - and darted forward, parallel to the side of the ship. McCree felt the wind knocked out of him as Hanzo crashed hard into his side, somewhat catching him but also tackling him to the ground. McCree flinched at the pain searing his upper arm. The lower cybernetic portion had scraped against the pavement, but had otherwise been spared the brunt of the fall.

“Are you okay?” Hanzo asked.

Part of McCree’s hip was numb and his thigh also hurt, but he made eye contact with Hanzo looking over him, felt Hanzo’s hand lifting his head.

“Yeah,” McCree said.

They untangled from each other and Hanzo helped McCree up. He didn’t show any pain.

“Let’s get back inside,” McCree said. “Shoulda listened to you, darlin’.”

“Yes,” Hanzo replied sternly. “You should’ve. You could’ve been seriously injured.”

“I’ll be fine,” McCree said, waving the words off. The look Hanzo gave him was sharp.

McCree took a step and almost fell. He might’ve had Hanzo not caught him.

“You are hurt?” Hanzo asked.

McCree might’ve taken longer to savour the concern in his face and voice, but his right leg was in serious pain. He placed his arm over Hanzo’s shoulders and, with his support, managed a shaky step forward.

“I’ll be fine,” McCree said as he gripped Hanzo’s shoulder. “Here, there’s a... lock on the side of the ship. By my left arm. See it?” His cybernetic arm stuttered as he tried to move it. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Torbjörn and Angela _not_ gonna be happy about that.”

Hanzo reached over with his own left arm, took McCree’s hand, and pressed it to the side of the ship where the scanner was. It was visibly more reflective than the ship’s matte surface. McCree felt pinpricks in his upper left arm when Hanzo gently lowered his hand back down to his side. It hung and swayed, limp.

The scanner showed McCree’s portrait and ID, gave a _ding._ The door opened and the big ramp lowered.

Hanzo’s hand clutched McCree’s hip and, without another word, re-entered the ship.

“There is an infirmary on this ship, correct?” Hanzo asked, looking around.

“Yeah,” McCree replied. His breathing was uneven. “There’s some... some biotic technology. Like the staff Angela uses and the biotic field Jack can deploy on the field. Over that way,” he said with a nod in the right direction.

The way there was slow going. McCree gave a grunt or growl of effort at least once every five steps. The infirmary was easily identified, though, with its large double doors, red cross symbol, and text over the door stating ‘INFIRMARY’ in various languages. The door opened automatically.

The room inside was large. There were several hover-gurneys lined up along the back wall. There was a counter with some papers, tablets, and other objects set on it, shelves and drawers likely stocked with medical supplies, and some holograms of medical objects - biotic technology like Mercy’s staff, the deployable biotic field, and what looked like a rifle of sorts. There were some beds against the side wall. Hanzo helped McCree over to the nearest one.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he said.

“Now what?” Hanzo asked. He approached the counter. A touchscreen monitor lit up, showing a list of supplies that Hanzo knew little to nothing about.

“Try that rifle-lookin’ thing on the table,” McCree said, pointing at the gun. He didn’t mention that it reminded him of someone he once knew, a better sharpshooter than him. But he recognized biotic technology when he saw it.

Hanzo picked it up and inspected it. The appearance was similar to Mercy’s staff; it had a smooth white exterior. The stock was clearly labelled ‘PROTOTYPE’.

“Do you know how it works?” Hanzo asked.

“Shit, there’s gotta be a way to load it. Bring it over.”

Hanzo brought it over, held it for McCree to take a look at.

“Well it obviously doesn’t take bullets. I think something goes in the underside, over here,” McCree said, tapping at the section in question. “Anything else on the table? Some kinda glowing yellow cylinder-lookin’ thing? All her biotic tech glows yellow, but it might look like one of Jack’s canisters. Ones only he uses on the field, I mean.”

Hanzo took the rifle and went back over to the counter. He brushed aside some papers and, yes, there were some cylinder-looking things. He tilted the gun. It looked like one of the cylinders would fit past the little holder, which was hinged. Hanzo pushed it down, slid the cylinder in, and pressed the holder back into place.

“I think it’s loaded,” Hanzo said, prodding the cylinder, snugly in place now.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he turned, pointed the gun at McCree, and pulled the trigger all in one smooth motion. McCree recoiled at the movement, but was met with relief. He felt the pain fade away. Hanzo pointed it at himself and pulled the trigger.

“It works well,” McCree said. “Angela clearly knew what she was doin’, makin’ this stuff.”

“Is your leg better?”

McCree looked up at Hanzo. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s better.”

They held eye contact. Anger flashed in Hanzo’s eyes. He raised his hand, there was a blur of motion, and before he’d even processed what had happened, McCree had his palm pressed to his stinging cheek.

“Ow,” he said. “Did you just... slap me?”

Hanzo’s open hand turned into a fist. He was silent before taking a deep breath and relaxing.

“Next time, listen to me,” he snapped before turning around to put the biotic rifle back down on the table. “If I didn’t reach you in time, or if you fell from higher up, what do you think would’ve happened? How do you think that would’ve turned out?”

McCree was shot with guilt as Hanzo turned to face him.

“I’m... I’m sorry. I really... I wasn’t thinkin’ straight, darlin’. I didn’t think it’d be that hard, seein’ you and Genji do that kinda thing all the time.”

“Going up walls is easier than the other way around,” Hanzo muttered.

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble or make you worry so much.”

Hanzo lunged forward, hand under McCree’s chin in an instant. McCree felt blunt nails dig into his cheek and neck.

“Don’t choke me,” he said quickly, leaning back.

“Don’t you ever do anything that _foolish_ ever again,” Hanzo replied, voice low. There was a cold ferocity in the words but McCree felt a flush rise to his cheeks and leaned back a little further.

“Hanzo,” he said, sounding strained. He felt Hanzo’s hand quiver with rage. The side of his palm was pressed to McCree’s throat and McCree was trying to pull away. He lifted his non-cybernetic hand and pressed it to the back of Hanzo’s.

“What?”

McCree met his glare and thought to himself how nice Hanzo’s face was, the curves and angles and the piece of hair dangling over his face, how the brown of his irises was so deep. And had he use of his cybernetic hand and forearm, he might’ve brought it to Hanzo’s cheek, as risky as that would’ve been. But it still wouldn’t move - something had clearly been broken - so McCree had to settle for holding his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

Hanzo didn’t reply.

“It was idiotic. Granted, climbin’ ain’t one of my abilities, and uh, I shoulda thought of that beforehand...” McCree trailed off, not sure what to say.

There was quiet, then: “You should’ve done a backflip,” Hanzo mumbled. He let go of McCree’s hand.

McCree blinked, cradled his unresponsive cybernetic arm.

“It would’ve been cool,” Hanzo said before leaving.

 

Breakfast was lively. Mercy had unofficially reserved one of the tables for the people not off fighting for the day - Jack hadn’t been happy - and directed them all to take a seat with her as they filtered into the dining room one by one. Hanzo was at her side, talking to Genji beside him, when McCree entered.

“Mornin’,” he said, sitting across from Hanzo.

“All right, Jess?” Tracer greeted at his left.

“Yeah, spec I should’ve gotten more rest, but otherwise fine,” he said, inputting his breakfast order. He looked up at Hanzo under the brim of his hat. Hanzo’s gaze flitted to him for a second before he continued his conversation with Genji.

McCree felt a chill down his spine and turned to see Reaper. Of course. Well, when would a better time for an apology be? He got up and walked up to him. Hanzo, upon having seen McCree get up to go and approach Reaper, dropped his words mid-sentence and rushed after him with minimal attempt at maintaining his uncaring demeanor.

“[Rude,]” Genji said. “[I was curious how that anecdote was going to end.]”

“What do you want?” Reaper demanded the moment McCree was close enough to hear his muffled words. He adjusted his hood - Hanzo noticed his claw gloves were clean now.

“I wanted to apologize, Gabriel,” McCree said. “I know...” He sighed. “I know I was drunk last night and I said some stuff and I regret it.”

Reaper made that head motion that Hanzo swore went along with an eye roll, if only the mask was off.

“So is this your attempt at owning up to it?” he asked.

“Uh... yeah,” McCree said. To his credit, he looked and sounded completely serious. There was visible remorse in his expression. “It ain’t my place to pry in your personal life, especially not now. Not anymore.”

Reaper growled softly.

McCree lowered the volume of his words, speaking in hushed tones now. “I’ll be honest with you, Gabriel, even if you could always see through people’s lies so it's kinda redundant to say I'm bein' honest instead of lyin'... And shit, there’s always been plenty of ‘em. Lies, I mean. What you said was pretty rough. I ain’t sure if we can ever be friends again, or anything like it, but at least... people who don’t hate each other. It’s exhausting.”

“Why do you assume I hate you?”

“Because,” McCree said, frustrated. “You always tell me off when I’m around you. You don’t ever let me talk to you, not to say hello, not to shoot the breeze, no nothin’. If you don’t hate me you do a real terrible job of showin’ it.”

 _Why do you care?_ Hanzo wanted to ask, watching McCree carefully.

“This is your way of showing me you’ve learned from me? Your way of showing me you’ve grown up? You really haven’t changed from your seventeen year old self.”

McCree flinched, blinked as if he’d been slapped on the cheek - Hanzo now knew how that expression looked. He looked down, shook his head, looked up again. Hanzo was about to pull McCree away from the conversation when he found his voice again, breaking the thick tension:

“Piss off, Reyes.”

Reaper laughed in his amused, condescending way.

“I don’t hate you, Jesse. But I did, not too long ago. As if you’d be off my hit list just because I mentored you.” He crossed his arms and shrugged, completely and maybe purposely oblivious to the fact that he’d inflicted some emotional wound on McCree. “In fact,” he said, tilting his head a little to the side. “[I’m _proud_ of you.]”

For a second, just a second, Hanzo could see a look flash on McCree’s face, a twinkle, akin to a kid in a candy store whose parents had just bought him a big bag of sweets. But then he hid it with a smile that wasn’t quite there to being a casual smirk, and immediately, Hanzo understood. McCree didn’t see Reaper as a friend, per se. To him, Reaper was a father figure.

“[Thanks, Gabriel.]”

“[You’re welcome,]” Reaper said before heading over to the second table to sit near the end.

“You catch any of that?” McCree asked Hanzo.

“A few words. He said something about himself and yourself. I’m not sure what, but you seemed happy about it and...” Hanzo paused, taking a quick look at Reaper, ordering breakfast with his claws. “...It made me understand a few things.”

“Like what?”

“You care about him, as a family member.”

McCree raised an eyebrow. “Shoot, comin’ from you, I ain’t sure if that’s a bad omen or not,” he said.

Hanzo scowled.

“Hey, that’s not an insult. I’m just sayin’, you don’t have a great track record with family, far as I know. By extension, neither does Genji. Heck, neither do I.” McCree sighed. “He’d poke fun at me for havin’ ‘daddy issues’ sometimes. Wonder if it made him uncomfortable. Dunno if he was ever a dad himself, but he didn’t act sympathetic about the matter. I was only a kid, anyway. Tough love and all that.”

“Let’s not think about our families,” Hanzo said.

“What, you mean ‘sides your brother sittin’ at the table? Weren’t you talkin’ to him about somethin’?”

“I was. Let’s not think about our families in our histories, then. We’re adults now. It doesn’t have to matter anymore.”

McCree smiled. “If only it was that easy, darlin’,” he said.

Hanzo didn’t need to reply to that. He knew it wasn’t easy. You could never forget, never let go of what shaped you. It didn’t matter that they were grown-ups, both old enough to have kids of their own. Some things stuck.

They sat back down together.

Hanzo was grateful that Genji didn’t ask what he’d been talking about with McCree, or what McCree had been talking about with Reaper. Instead, he asked:

“[Are you going to continue?]”

“[What was I talking about? I forgot,]” Hanzo replied, poking at the dairy-free riz casimir on his plate. More Mercy-recommended cuisine.

“[I was hoping you’d remember, brother.]”

“[I don’t, Genji.]”

“[Neither do I.]”

“[That is a shame.]”

They both returned to their meals. McCree was looking at them, curious as to what they’d said. Hanzo made eye contact and gave a shake of his head, almost imperceptible. McCree wasn’t sure what message that was supposed to impart. No? No to what? Stop looking at us? You can ask about it after the meal? Learn Japanese yourself, you damn Westerner, instead of shooting me your smoulder every meal because it turns me on and that’s not appropriate for the table? It could’ve been any combination of those things.

“So,” Mercy said, voice raised to get the attention of the table. She cleared her throat when Tracer didn’t stop flipping through a comic on her phone’s holographic screen projection. “Is everyone here coming on our trip?”

There was a general rumble of assent around the group. Tracer turned the hologram off to show she was listening now. McCree chanced a quick look at Reaper poking at his breakfast before turning to Mercy.

“Angela, what about Mei and Zarya?” Hanzo asked.

“They told me they’re staying behind, but maybe they’ll join us next time.”

“Told you they’d stay if we got outta their hair,” McCree said.

“When you said that, it was not a definitive,” Hanzo mumbled.

“Payin’ that much attention to what I say?” McCree asked, smiling.

Hanzo glared at him, but even McCree working his wiles could see there was little venom behind it.

“Boys,” Mercy said, fixing them both with a silencing look. “We’ll set off after today’s group leaves. I want to talk to Fareeha face-to-face while we’re still here.”

“Aww,” D.Va said.

Mercy continued, “Like I said before, we’ll be borrowing one of the ship’s hovercrafts. Genji and I will take turns driving.”

“Think I’ll have a chance to take it for a spin, love?” Tracer asked.

“Maybe. No promises,” Mercy said. “It’s not like piloting a ship, you know.”

“Pff, I know that,” Tracer said. “I asked Cypress already and she said no.”

“Are we going into the city proper?” Genji asked.

“Do you want to?” Mercy asked.

Hanzo and Genji exchanged a look.

“We can, but we shouldn’t stay for too long if we do,” Hanzo said.

“People... might recognize you,” Genji added slowly, choosing his words with care.

Mercy rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I can blend into the crowd going out in public. Do you think I was swarmed with fans or enemies of Overwatch whenever I left the house? Now tell me the real reason why we shouldn’t stay in the city too long.”

Genji shrugged. Hanzo was unfazed. They turned to each other again and had a quick, comically brief discussion in Japanese. Then there was a pocket of wordless quiet, followed by a less brief discussion.

“[Kichi might still be after you,]” Genji said.

“[No, I killed her,]” Hanzo replied.

“[How dare you?]”

“[She was aiming at my kneecaps. It was an act of mercy for me to end her life as painlessly as I did.]”

“[You tell the Doctor.]”

“[Why don’t you? You know her better.]”

“[Maybe several years ago, but she’s concerned about you now, brother. Didn’t you say she went after you that one night on the roof?]”

“[What if they get offended?]”

“[Like we haven’t joked about them before...]”

“[Not to their faces in English.]”

“[Speak for yourself.]”

“[To be fair, we can’t face them without being blinded.]”

Genji laughed so loudly it startled the rest of the table.

“[We should buy a pair of sunglasses. Walking around this ship, we’d put them to good use.]”

“[I don’t know, Genji, that would make it so obvious. They’d notice right away.]”

“[It’s not our fault there are so many of them in this group.]”

D.Va watched them with a disinterested look on her face. She finished her pudding before tapping Mercy on the shoulder and telling her, “They’re saying because you’re white, people are gonna notice. This is a predominantly Japanese city, so...”

“Oh!” Mercy exclaimed.

“Since when do you understand that much Japanese? That’s not what we were saying!” Hanzo snapped.

“It’s what we were _implying,”_ Genji said.

“Well, you two have a point,” McCree said. “This group’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Why don’t we just fly a little further?” Tracer asked.

“Any suggestions?” Mercy asked, turning to the Shimada brothers.

“If you don’t mind a few looks from passersby, we can go into the city,” Genji said. “Can we take the hovercraft?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Hanzo muttered.

“But it’d be so _cool,”_ D.Va replied. “Riding into the city in style.”

“It would be cool,” Tracer said, nodding in agreement.

“How big is the hovercraft? The size of a regular hovercar?” Genji asked.

“Well... no, that wouldn’t fit all of us,” Mercy said.

Throughout most of breakfast, the group discussed transportation and potential destinations besides the city.

“Maybe we should just ask Genji and Hanzo to summon their dragons and we’ll take a ride on them,” Tracer joked.

“That’s not funny,” Hanzo said.

“It’s hilarious,” Genji said.

“Yes, a ride on incorporeal spirit dragons. Brilliant idea, Lena,” Mercy said, smiling.

The Shimada brothers were clearly reluctant to agree with the hovercraft idea, but both thought it could work if they parked somewhere that the vehicle would actually fit.

“It could be nice to see the city again,” Genji said. “There are still things I miss, even if there are more that I could live the rest of my life without.”

“Was that a sly jab at Hanzo?” D.Va asked.

Tracer looked scandalized, but only managed to hold the expression for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter.

“It wasn’t,” Genji admitted. “You’ll understand when we show you around.”

“Much has changed,” Hanzo said, to which Genji nodded.

“In an hour, then. We’ll meet back here,” Mercy said. “Bring a jacket if you’d like, and some money to spend. We can get lunch there.”

 

An hour later, after the day’s sendoff, the group had re-congregated at the table. Genji was in a fashionable jacket with a fluffy hood along with the t-shirt Hanzo had stolen from him earlier. Hanzo was back in his own clothes, looking a lot more casual than he did on the battlefield because he wasn't wearing his kimono. Tracer was in her leather bomber. Mercy wore a pretty sundress and aviators. D.Va was in a Lúcio tank top with shorts.

“Jesse, what the hell are you wearing?” D.Va asked.

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

D.Va scruntinized him with a raised eyebrow, as if in disbelief he even asked.

“For starters, you’ve still got that blanket around your neck.”

“It’s a _serape.”_

“You don’t have to dress up like a cowboy everyday,” D.Va said, sighing. “It’s fine on the battlefield, but we’re just walking around the city. Y’know, casually?”

“At least he took the armor off, love,” Tracer said.

“Yeah, I guess a plain white t-shirt _is_ better than armor. Wait, are those black skinny jeans?”

McCree looked down then back up. “‘Bout as skinny as they’re gettin’, pardner,” he said.

“Yes, Jesse has nice thighs, can we go now?” Genji asked, clapping his hand on McCree’s shoulder.

“A cowboy in tow will not make people stare at us any more than they already do,” Hanzo said.

Mercy stood, smiled at the group. “Shall we?” she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ some more art for ya: [tfw you make a new mutual and immediately wanna show off their art,](http://xotaro.tumblr.com/post/147307986143/theres-just-somethin-bout-a-cowboy) [really sweet comic,](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147463751806/minghii-ana-knows-she-knows-u-love-her-stinky) [really adorable comic,](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147555772421/castanicatheart-pretty-okay-raises) [cute fanart,](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147611497451/forsakenorion-a-little-mchanzo-doodle-i-made) and please read [ArcaneAdagio's hilarious chatlog fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7324573/chapters/16637323). i wrote my own inspired by it but you gotta read that one first
> 
> edit 26/07/2016; i retconned 'oolong' to 'jasmine' bc jasmine is like. the best restaurant tea. just saying


	4. Renascent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [genji is a goddamn fuckin delight to play](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Oet2pht_JY), especially if you get nanaboosted (pun intended) //

The ride away from the Shimada Castle and into the city was pleasant with the breeze whipping everyone’s faces. McCree compared it to riding on the back of a pickup, except with more people, but nobody else could relate. Most of them had only ridden in the average hovercar. In the Shimada brothers’ cases, fancy hovercars.

“They were convertibles,” Genji said. “You could slide the roof down if you wanted, but if I was with my family, father never allowed it. He was paranoid about getting shot, I think.”

“It was a safety precaution,” Hanzo said.

“When I was out with friends, that was fun. You could feel the wind in your hair and everything!” Genji exclaimed before segueing into a funny story about almost losing his scarf once when riding in a convertible hovercar. He didn’t notice Hanzo’s wince, but McCree did.

Genji talked about how he’d jumped out of the vehicle, broke an ankle, but got the scarf back. “It was a bright orange scarf,” he said, nodding. “Hanzo got it for me and he’d always tease me about wearing it after I dyed my hair green. He kept saying I looked just like a carrot! It became an inside joke, we’d bring up different vegetables each time...”

McCree watched Hanzo carefully, but Hanzo didn’t look up to meet his gaze. McCree could guess what he was thinking, though. It seemed that when Hanzo was plagued by serious thoughts, they connected to Genji most of the time. What was he thinking now? Was it the regret in him? Because Genji could no longer feel the wind through his hair; he didn’t have any? Because Genji forgave him, and even now would tell the group a story about how he’d injured himself retrieving Hanzo’s gift for him from a moving vehicle?

“Up ahead, is that a safe place to park?” Mercy asked the crew - now laughing, for the most part - sitting in the back.

“Dr. Ziegler, this is a _park._ When we said to find a good place to park the hovercraft, we didn’t mean it this literally,” Genji replied, standing even though the craft was still in motion. “Keep going. Wait, turn left,” he said, hardly even swaying as Mercy drove.

McCree slid into the spot next to Hanzo. Tracer and D.Va were discussing potential vegetable-related nicknames for Genji.

“You doin’ alright?” McCree asked.

“Fine,” Hanzo replied curtly.

“C’mon. Talk to me, darlin’.”

Hanzo shook his head. “I’d rather not,” he said.

So they rode in silence for a while. The city, Tracer and D.Va’s conversation, Genji’s directions provided background noise. Hanzo felt McCree’s presence at his side. He was so close, just like on the roof of the ship earlier in the morning. Almost touching, but not quite. Hanzo wanted to move. He didn’t. A few times, to respond to Tracer and D.Va, McCree’s arm bumped Hanzo’s. Hanzo didn’t comment on it.

“This parking lot has a lot of space. Drive in through here,” Genji said, still standing as he told Mercy which way to go.

Hanzo realized where they were and spoke up, “[We’re not welcome here, Genji.]”

Genji didn’t even turn around as he shrugged. “[I did these people a favour once,]” he replied. “[They appreciate Overwatch, even if it’s technically disbanded now. So don’t worry, brother.]”

Hanzo quieted at that. McCree noticed, again, that hint of despondence. Pain, even. He wondered if Hanzo believed that whatever favour Genji had done related to taking out their family’s clan. It wouldn’t be a stretch, would it? Of course, it was hard to think too much into it when they were in some random parking lot.

Mercy parked the hovercraft. It hummed before descending to the ground. Genji hopped out the back before it had even properly landed, Tracer right behind him.

“Got any plans?” Tracer asked, turning to the Shimadas.

Hanzo didn’t say anything, and didn’t look like he had anything in mind.

“How about lunch?” Genji suggested.

“I could go for a bite,” McCree said.

“That’s because you are always hungry,” Genji pointed out.

“Hey now.”

“Sushi!” Tracer exclaimed. “Somethin’ fresh, loves. Better than the ship’s menu.”

Hanzo and Genji turned to each other and an argument flared up immediately.

“[Miyuki’s. We have to,]” Genji insisted.

“[It’s better at Akira’s and you _know_ that. We’ve been over this.]”

“[You said yourself Miyuki makes better sushi!]”

“[I was drunk!]”

“[But you still said it, brother.]”

“[I know Akira personally. He’s one of the best chefs I’ve ever met and he does a good job with his place.]”

“[All the more reason not to visit him! What if he recognizes any of us? Mostly you, I mean. You and McCree are criminals.]”

“McCree-san, what?” McCree asked, wondering why his name had come up in conversation.

Hanzo, arms crossed, looked frustrated for a few moments before closing his eyes and exhaling in resignation.

“[Okay!]” Genji exclaimed, knowing when the battle had been won. “Let’s go, everybody. It’s a few blocks from here.”

McCree listened to Genji tell the others about a few interesting menu choices. He reminded D.Va not to order anything alcoholic, much to her annoyance. Genji and Tracer backed her up on that.

“Jack’ll have a fit if he hears we let you drink,” Tracer said as D.Va huffed.

“Maybe next year,” Genji added.

McCree hovered around the back of the group with Hanzo. They walked side by side. When Hanzo didn’t say anything, was just taking in the scenery of a city that had likely changed since he’d last lived near it, McCree spoke first:

“Is it nice bein’ back?” he asked.

“I visit Hanamura every year,” Hanzo said. “But to be walking in these city streets again without the same purpose in mind is... It is an experience I have not been longing for.”

“You regret comin’ out with us?”

Hanzo seemed to relax a fraction. “Not yet,” he said.

“You must be excited to have some sushi, at least.”

“Fresh sushi. Not to mention, the sake around here is better than what we have offered to us on the ship,” Hanzo admitted.

The group entered the restaurant and Genji waved to the host. After a quick exchange, they went back to summon a person introducing themself as Miyuki who looked eager to see them. Genji bowed, and Hanzo followed suit. The others looked at each other, shrugging, unsure what to do.

“This is Miyuki-san,” Genji said. “She says she’s very glad to have us tonight.”

There were scattered greetings and Miyuki showed them to their table.

“Are these menus in Japanese?” Tracer asked, picking up one of the tablets.

“The language setting is on the top right corner,” D.Va said, tapping the button for her.

“Order whatever you want,” Genji said. “Hanzo and I will cover.”

Mercy smiled warmly. “You don’t have to do that, Genji,” she said.

“We insist,” Genji said, clapping Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo nodded, taking the seat beside his brother.

“We have money in the budget for food, you know,” Mercy said.

“We have money,” Genji said.

“Too much money,” Hanzo muttered.

“Just let ‘em pay, Angela,” McCree said, sitting beside Hanzo. “You know how rich people are.”

Mercy rolled her eyes, but relented and didn’t press the issue any further.

“Gérard never let us pay for a single meal,” she said with a sigh.

“How d’you know the owner, anyway?” D.Va asked, looking up at Genji.

“I’ve been here multiple times. It would be difficult for them to forget me.”

“Why? ‘Cause you’re a cyborg?”

Genji paused before replying, “No, because I tip very well.”

“But... also because you are a cyborg, correct?” Mercy asked.

“Well there aren’t many people like me around, so yes, that would be a logical conclusion to draw.”

“How much should we tip tonight?” Hanzo asked, submitting his order on the menu and lacing his fingers together.

“We’ll see what the total is. I usually go with sixty percent,” Genji replied. Hanzo gave a nod.

“Wh- _sixty percent?”_ Tracer asked, incredulous.

“Y’all can afford to tip that much?” McCree asked.

“Not bad,” D.Va said. She looked impressed, though she was obviously one of the people in the group who had money to throw around, too.

“What’s wrong with that?” Genji asked. “Also, we’ve been out to eat together. How have you not noticed?”

“Well outings with the Overwatch group ain’t ever cheap,” McCree said.

“That is true,” Genji said, laughing.

“Everyone would eat so much,” Mercy added. 

“Sure is awful nice of y’all to tip that much money,” McCree said, looking at the Shimada brothers as if seeing them for the first time.

“What else are we going to do with our money?” Hanzo asked.

“Iunno, donate it to charity?” McCree replied.

“Sometimes,” Genji said.

“Remember when you would leave all the money in your wallet with the animal shelter?” Hanzo asked with a ghost of a smile.

“I personally subsidized the meals of every shelter animal in Hanamura,” Genji said with pride.

“Let Jesse make a donation,” Tracer said, grinning.

“Hey, yeah. Maybe for kids who need prosthetics,” McCree said.

“Sure,” Genji said as he placed the menu tablets back in their stand.

“Which bank are you with?” Hanzo asked.

“Uhh, Ciel.”

“Okay, pass me your phone,” Hanzo said, taking his own phone out and unlocking it.

After some tapping followed by a pleasant chime, Hanzo handed McCree’s phone back. McCree inspected it. He said nothing, but placed his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder.

“What?” Hanzo asked, brushing his hand off.

“Hanzo, darlin’, why the hell’d you just transfer me six thousand dollars?” McCree asked.

“You said you wanted to donate to kids who need prosthetics!” Hanzo exclaimed, looking affronted.

“They do not come cheap,” Genji said, flipping a chopstick.

“Well I s’pose you ain’t wrong there,” McCree mumbled, flexing his cybernetic hand.

“Alright, Hanzo and Genji’s weird uppercrust tendencies aside, food’s here!” D.Va said, clearly trying not to yell to get everyone’s attention.

Everyone cleared their hands and elbows from the table. A lit up panel on the wall opened, and out slid various dishes. Genji passed them over to everyone before taking his mask off.

“[Let’s eat,]” Hanzo and Genji said in unison before taking their chopsticks to their plates.

“Er, is that a thing we’re _supposed_ to say here before digging in?” D.Va asked.

“[Let’s eat,]” Tracer, Mercy, and McCree repeated at varying degrees of success. Clearly they were used to Genji’s pre-meal words.

“...Right,” D.Va said before stuffing a piece of sashimi into her mouth.

“Here are the drinks as well,” Genji said as the panel opened again, handing everyone their glasses.

“So what’d everyone order?” Tracer asked.

“[Eel,]” Genji said, before repeating in English, “Eel.”

“Just eel?”

“I do not eat much.”

“What about everyone else?”

“Sushi,” Hanzo replied. “We came here for sushi. I’m getting sushi.”

Tracer smiled. “I thought you of all people here would get something else, love,” she said.

“Why is that?”

“‘Cause you know what your options are.”

Hanzo blinked before returning to his food.

“Well _I_ got a lot of tempura because if moneybags one and two are paying for this meal, I’m gonna have fun with it,” D.Va said.

“Your meal does not deserve our money if you are going to drown your food in soy sauce and wasabi,” Genji teased.

D.Va huffed. “It’s a good mix!” she retorted.

“If you say so,” Genji said, dipping the end of his unagi sushi into the brownish mixture she’d created.

“How ‘bout you, Angie?” Tracer asked.

“Soba salad and sashimi.”

“Fuck yes sashimi,” D.Va said, raising her fist for a bump which Mercy delivered without hesitation.

“Am I the only one who just picked random things off the menu?” Tracer asked.

“Yes, that seems like the case,” Hanzo said.

“What did you order?” Genji asked.

“I dunno, but there sure is a lot of it,” Tracer said, pulling a bowl towards herself and going at it. She speared a piece of tofu with a chopstick.

D.Va made a noise like a squawk. “Did you really just do that?!” she exclaimed.

“As if I know how to use chopsticks, love,” Tracer said before popping the cube in her mouth.

D.Va slapped her hand away from her bowl, started trying to teach her how to hold the chopsticks properly. Mercy looked like she wanted to interfere before rolling her eyes, laughing in amusement.

“No, no, like this!”

“I don’t think my fingers can do that, love.”

“C’mon, try!”

D.Va looked determined. Tracer just wanted to eat. She reached for a spoon and yelped as D.Va whacked her hand with her chopsticks. Before long, she gave up trying to teach Tracer how to wield chopsticks properly.

“Have you tried this yet? It’s really good.”

“Are we getting dessert?”

“Of course! That’s the best part of the meal, innit?”

“I wonder if they have cake here.”

“I’m ordering ice cream.”

“Whoa! How’d you fit that whole thing in your mouth?!”

“Itsh- oop. It’s _skill,_ love.”

“Is this alcoholic?”

“Yes, do not drink too much of it.”

“I’m not driving, so I’m not gonna worry!”

“It’s okay, Dr. Ziegler. I will not be consuming any alcohol, so you can have as much as you want.”

“Oh thank goodness.”

“Can someone pass me a menu?”

“Here you g- crap! Almost dropped it in the soup...”

“You haven’t even finished eating yet!”

“I wanna see what dessert they serve...”

“At least finish your meal first.”

McCree smiled at the conversation before turning to Hanzo. He had a somber look in his eyes. He was clearly in a different place, a different time, as he watched his brother laugh and eat and chat. What did he see now? Genji before the incident, the fight? Genji young with that fierce spirit of his that McCree had only seen hinted at but, according to Genji’s storytelling, had never _really_ seen in person? Genji still high on life? Or maybe just his regrets and his remorse laughing back at him now.

When Hanzo got up, said he needed to use the restroom then get some fresh air, Mercy looked worried. McCree gave her a _don’t worry, I’ll handle this_ look so she didn’t say anything. But there was something in her eyes, an expression McCree had seen before that reminded him of her wisdom.

He got up and tailed Hanzo.

“Leavin’ the party so soon, darlin’?” he asked, joining Hanzo outside.

The city’s din was still very much audible, but behind the restaurant, the chat felt a lot more private. So McCree walked right up to Hanzo. He wasn’t sure if he’d care even if there were people around.

Without a hint of indignance or irritation, Hanzo replied, “I am not good in groups.”

“You’ve had two drinks. Can’t be that bad, now.”

“I will be fine, Jesse.”

“Talk to me then.”

Hanzo didn’t say anything. McCree decided to take the leap and talk first.

“Why is it that you’ve got two spirit dragons but Genji’s only got one?”

Hanzo gave him a look.

“Hey, I’m just curious and makin’ conversation, darlin’. You steal someone else’s?”

“No, that’s... not how it works,” Hanzo said. “They aren’t mine. They are, but Genji can control them too. It’s hard to explain.”

“This magical stuff’s beyond me, you know.”

Hanzo relaxed, just barely. “There are two,” he said without elaborating.

“Ain’t that neat. Do they affect you?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said. “They can be exhausting to channel. They can be _exhausting._ But their power makes the spent energy worth it.”

“Y’know, Genji’s made jokes about ‘em affecting his sex drive. Hey, don’t give me that look. I ain’t sayin’ it’s true.”

Hanzo’s scowl melted away. He looked sad. Undeniably so.

“Do you regret hurting and killing so many people?” he asked, not making eye contact.

McCree looked off into the sky, gazing upon the buildings in the distance. He looked at the different signs and shops open and ready for business, a little bit less in the distance.

Hanzo watched him give that easy smile, watched his hair under that silly cowboy hat ruffle from the passing breeze, and he felt something stir inside of him.

McCree turned to him and said, “Of course. We’ve all made big mistakes, some worse than others. Some of us get second chances, like you and I. That’s how life is, ain’t it? You make mistakes, then you gotta pick yourself up by the bootstraps and own up to ‘em.”

He added another sentence or two, but Hanzo didn’t hear them. He could only hear the thundering of his own heart, the people chatting and walking and living in front of the restaurant, on the streets alive and bustling. Other sounds, city sounds: hovercars humming, a honk then another from a busier road, the whooshing of the monorails up above.

“Hanzo?” McCree asked, concerned. “You, uh... you there, darlin’?”

Hanzo could see light reflected in McCree’s eyes. He felt a rush of adrenaline, a rush of nausea, maybe. He felt fire, like he did on the battlefield when making a series of solid shots. But beyond that, he felt life stitched into his veins. And in retrospect, when he’d think about the moment later, Hanzo would swear he was aglow.

McCree was about to question him again, thinking Hanzo was either too deep in thought to listen or not feeling well:

“Hanzo, you doin’ alri- mmf.”

Hanzo leaned in, pressed his lips to McCree’s. One of his hands held his hip. His thumb moved absently, hooking itself in one of McCree’s belt loops. McCree couldn’t think straight, could hardly form any coherent thoughts as he, too, lit up from within. He thought about how of course Hanzo could kiss. From where, though, neither he nor Genji had ever hinted at. He thought about Hanzo’s taste, though it was heavily masked by sake. He thought about how Hanzo had to tip his head up to even be able to reach McCree’s face.

His lips were soft, his beard wasn’t.

They parted, stars glittering in McCree’s eyes. They were both blushing. There was heat between them, a blaze that was impossible to snuff out. Hanzo’s other hand cupped the side of McCree’s face and lingered.

Neither of them spoke.

Then McCree leaned in. He saw Hanzo’s eyes flutter, closing, before he closed his own, and he knew right then and there he wouldn’t trade the sight for all the money, all the treasure, all the guns in the world. Hanzo let McCree kiss him, so McCree did, and he held the back of Hanzo’s head with a hand, had his other hand on Hanzo’s lower back to pull him in a little closer.

McCree’s felt Hanzo’s hair, then the silkiness of his hair ribbon. He felt mounting heat, again. He could’ve sworn - for a moment, at least, for a moment - he felt tongue. Hot and wet and maybe even desperate, a little bit, for his touch. It drove him up the wall.

He pushed back against Hanzo’s body. They were touching now. And Hanzo _groaned_ softly, making McCree hum, content, before they both pulled away, needing air and needing a moment to breathe. Needing a moment to fully grasp what had just transpired between them.

Hanzo traced the side of McCree’s face with his fingertips, his touch light as a feather. He still didn’t speak, but McCree saw lust in his eyes half-lidded, he swore it was lust, it was need. A craving.

A promise.

But maybe that was reading too far into it.

“Holy cow,” McCree said.

Hanzo kissed him again, this time on the neck, and McCree’s breath hitched.

“Don’t,” he managed, trying not to hyperventilate. “Not now, when people’re around...”

Hanzo pulled away and his reluctance was almost tangible. But he composed himself and there it was again, that aloof demeanor, the air of not caring as much as everyone else did. Garnished with a dash with bitterness and superiority. Some small part of McCree that had remained rational throughout the situation thought, _there’s the Hanzo we know and love._

McCree gave Hanzo’s small fluffy ponytail a little tug, eliciting a growl from him. But McCree could tell Hanzo wasn’t angry and it made him smirk. Clearly that was the right reaction, because Hanzo leaned in closer and hovered for a beat. Their breaths mingled before Hanzo kissed him, more insistently this time. This time, McCree groaned with pleasure, feeling Hanzo’s tongue against his own and wondering where this sudden courage had come from.

Alcohol, maybe. But if that was the case, well, Hanzo drank often enough, didn’t he?

They parted. McCree was panting lightly. Hanzo pushed his hat back to ruffle his hair before re-entering the restaurant, leaving McCree with a bulge in his pants.

 

The group was making a great deal of noise. D.Va and Mercy had gotten in a sashimi-eating contest that Mercy had won. Genji had been commentating for the ordeal, and Tracer had been recording the whole thing while laughing.

McCree told the group about him trying to climb down the ship and Hanzo coming to his rescue. When he put his arm around Hanzo, borderline yelling the story out, Hanzo didn’t brush him off. He even smiled a little, and the sight made Mercy smile too.

Hanzo and Genji were nonchalant in their conversation. D.Va was occupied by Mercy’s lecture about the dangers of salmonella, and the brothers were free to talk to each other in Japanese without anyone listening in.

“[So... you and the cowboy,]” Genji said.

“[Yes,]” Hanzo replied. He didn’t feel like divulging much more.

“[Don’t look so upset, brother. He clearly likes you very much.]”

“[I don’t look upset.]”

“[You always look upset.]”

Hanzo frowned and Genji snorted.

“[See? You just frowned.]”

“[My relationships are nobody else’s business, Genji. I don’t know what to make of this one anyway.]”

“[Has he asked you out?]”

“[He has... certainly... made advances.]”

“[Will you reciprocate?]”

“[I think I already have.]”

Genji gasped before replying, “[What happened outside between you two? I feel like I’ve missed something very important. No, no. Stop frowning. You don’t have to tell me.]”

“[It was just a kiss.]”

Genji punched Hanzo so hard he nearly knocked McCree off his chair by bumping into him.

“[Well, three,]” Hanzo mumbled.

Genji grabbed his arm, shook him, then shoved him in disbelief. 

“Whoa there,” McCree said, cybernetic fingers struggling to find purchase on the table’s smooth surface.

Hanzo’s hand dipped down to McCree’s waist and pulled him back upright.

“On second thought, you can do that anytime,” McCree said, smiling.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. Genji did not look apologetic, though his mask was back on his face so it was hard to tell.

“[Calm down, Genji,]” Hanzo snapped.

“[I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you. After having been a part of Overwatch for so long, very little surprises me nowadays. But... I must admit, that surprises me.]”

“[Why?]”

“[Because, brother! You don’t...]” Genji made a vague hand gesture as he attempted to articulate his thoughts. “[You don’t like people very much. Especially not in _that way.]”_

Hanzo growled in frustration before downing the rest of his sake.

“[While that may be true, you needn’t act so surprised now,]” he said.

Genji crossed his arms. “[How was I supposed to react, then?]” he challenged.

“[I don’t know! But definitely not like that!]” Hanzo replied, exasperated. “[I did not make fun of you for having a crush on... the other Spanish-speaking one. Gab-]”

Genji punched Hanzo again, this time hard enough for him to wince visibly at the bruise forming on his arm. Hanzo’s arm looped around McCree’s waist even though he’d taken the knockback better this time.

“I’ll be fine, darlin’,” McCree said, smiling.

“Yes, of course,” Hanzo mumbled, setting his elbows back on the table.

Before Hanzo could fire a curse-laced insult at Genji, Tracer spoke up:

“I’m stuffed! Can’t believe we finished almost all that food.”

“Yeah,” D.Va said with a nod. “That cake was really good.”

“Are we ready for the bill?” Mercy asked.

After a general chorus of agreement, D.Va plugged one of the menu tablets into the wall panel and hit the button with the yen symbol on it. The menu lit up, now detailing the purchases of the meal.

“[We’ll talk about this later,]” Genji said, taking the tablet. He flicked his wrist and from under the white plate covering his left arm, retrieved his phone.

“[Maybe,]” Hanzo muttered. “[Let me cover the tip.]”

“[Wait, it’s confirming the money transfer... Okay, here.]”

Hanzo took the tablet, tapped at his phone, tapped at the tablet, and added the promised generous tip.

“How much are you tipping?” Mercy asked.

“Sixty percent,” Hanzo replied as he plugged the tablet back into the wall. A chime and “thank you very much!” in Japanese signalled the transfer complete.

“How much was the meal?” Tracer asked. She got up, stretched and yawned.

Hanzo and Genji exchanged a look.

“You would be better off not knowing,” Genji told her.

“Aw, I’m kinda curious, though!” D.Va exclaimed.

“As am I,” Mercy said.

“Yeah there’s no way all that stuff Lena ordered was cheap,” McCree added.

Genji pulled on his fur-hooded jacket. Hanzo put his phone away. Neither of them answered what the others wanted to know.

“[These people eat a lot,]” Hanzo said.

“[It’s a good thing we’re rich,]” Genji replied.

“Wow,” D.Va murmured, eyebrows raised.

The group left the restaurant, fresh conversation already covering the curiosity over the bill. Mercy and Genji talked about the meal and potential next destinations. Tracer and D.Va talked about the city, how nice it would look at night later, and how nothing was quite like walking around a city at night. McCree stuck with Hanzo hanging around at the back of the group yet again.

“How’re you feelin’?” he asked.

“I am fine. Lunch was nice,” Hanzo said.

“I’m only askin’ ‘cause I worry sometimes, y’know.”

“I know, Jesse. I appreciate it. Hold on to that thought. Genji!”

Genji turned. “[Yes?]” he shouted.

“[Let’s go to the mall!]”

“[Yes!!]”

Excitement swelled in the group again as Genji told the others all about what they could spend their money on. He wanted another pair of pants, something he said accompanied by a pointed look at Hanzo’s direction. The others laughed as Hanzo glared back. Genji continued, listing various electronics next.

“Can’t y’all just buy your own shopping centre?” McCree asked.

Hanzo looked at him, wondering if his question was serious. But there it was, that relaxed smile, and Hanzo relaxed, too.

“Ridiculous,” he said with an air of pomp. “That’s not illegal enough for this family.”

McCree laughed so hard he almost tripped.

“Do you think they’ll take my card?” Mercy asked.

“What is this, 2072?” Tracer asked. “Of course they will, love.”

“Hmm, not all places do...”

“Do not worry about it,” Genji said. 

As they discussed payment options, McCree watched Hanzo. First out of the corner of his eye, then giving a proper look. He couldn’t say for sure, but he thought Hanzo looked a little happier. Maybe shopping related to his and Genji’s past, in some positive way? The brothers had always had plenty to spend, after all.

“Whoa, how many floors does this place have?” Tracer asked, looking up in amazement.

“Twelve, by the looks of it,” Mercy answered.

“This is gonna be fuckin’ _awesome,”_ D.Va said, grinning.

Hanzo said he’d take McCree to look at clothes. Genji and Mercy went to do the same, but pants first. Tracer and D.Va wanted to check out the season’s newest electronics.

“We can meet up in the second floor food court at four o’clock,” Mercy said. “I’ll be sure to message all of you ten minutes prior.”

Hanzo and McCree headed over to a clothing store on the sixth floor.

“I can’t say I really need new clothes,” McCree said as he sifted through a rank of shirts.

“It would get Hana off your back, though.”

“Shit, maybe we should’ve invited her... I’m sure that would thrill her to pieces.”

“Why don’t you try some clothes on and send her pictures of different outfits?” Hanzo suggested.

“That actually ain’t a bad idea. Pick out some shirts, c’mon, doesn’t matter which ones.”

Hanzo and McCree pulled a bunch of clothes off the racks and headed to the dressing room. The worker raised their eyebrow at McCree’s excitement but lead the two to their room.

“Come on in, don’t be shy, darlin’. Pretty roomy in here, actually,” McCree said, parting the curtain. Hanzo paused, but gritted his teeth and stepped inside.

McCree hung the clothes on the hooks and then picked from them again, building some kind of outfit. Hanzo felt his phone vibrate and fished it out of his pocket.

‘[What brand pants do you wear,]’ Genji had texted him.

Hanzo closed his eyes and exhaled before replying, ‘[I don’t know and I’m not checking.]’

‘[Please]’

‘[Ask Angela to help you.]’

‘[Brotherrrrrr]’

Hanzo shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“What are you doing?” he asked sharply.

McCree’s serape had been tossed on the bench - right beside Hanzo, and he hadn’t even noticed - and his t-shirt was halfway up his torso.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’? It was your suggestion to try on clothes, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but... you are just going to undress in front of me?”

McCree pulled his shirt off and dropped it over the serape.

“Yep,” he replied, smiling.

Hanzo took a moment to appreciate McCree being shirtless in front of him, not for the first time. But this felt so much more personal. Maybe it was the fact that they were sharing a changing room. McCree had some definition to him, but also some paunch, and while Hanzo wasn’t exactly sure how that worked he appreciated it all the same. Of course, he couldn’t relate. He remembered the time D.Va had described him, “cut as _fuck!”_ before slam dunking her drink on the table.

McCree didn’t even prod Hanzo further, instead pulling on one of the store’s shirts. It seemed he really was interested in getting D.Va’s opinion. Or... bothering her, perhaps. Hanzo took a quick look at the pairs of pants he’d selected. None of them went with the shirt.

His phone buzzed.

‘[What do you think of these pants brother do they look boring enough,]’ came from Genji with an attached image of grey sweatpants.

Hanzo nearly messed up the Japanese characters he was typing, due to his immense frustration and irritation.

‘[Yes they look fine buy ten pairs and I’ll only steal four of them,]’ he replied.

He nearly shouted as McCree tossed his pants over haphazardly.

“You look like you want to say something,” McCree said as he yanked one of the pairs of pants off its hook.

Hanzo was seriously considering whether or not to compliment McCree on his thighs when he said, “You have puppies on your boxer briefs.”

“Sure do,” McCree said, raising an eyebrow as he pulled the pants on. “Now do me a favour and take a picture of this.”

The shirt was a violently bright orange and electric lime striped mess. The pants were brown with a fancy gold leaf-esque pattern on them. Hanzo wondered why the hell they’d entered this store in the first place, but he grabbed McCree’s phone to take the picture because he thought D.Va would get a kick out of it. McCree took the time to put his hat back on.

“The code’s 1930. Then swipe up.”

Hanzo unlocked the phone, opened the camera, and held it up.

“Strike a pose,” he said.

McCree struck a pose, looking as if he was swooning. Hanzo snapped the picture and texted D.Va, ‘What do you think of this outfit?’

Her reply came a few seconds later: ‘I HATE IT!!!!’

Hanzo showed McCree and he laughed before removing the clothes to try on another set. They showed D.Va and Tracer the different outfits. D.Va hated them all, but was sure to tell them that Tracer found most of the clothes hilarious. She had colourful descriptors for each article.

“It’s like you ended up trying the ugliest clothes in the entire store,” Hanzo said as he put the clothes back on their hangers.

“I thought it’d be funnier that way,” McCree said, grabbing a sequined magenta shirt.

D.Va especially hated that one, and even Hanzo laughed at her reply text. It was filled with enough rage to scorch the earth.

“Hey, uh, darlin’?”

“Yes?” Hanzo asked, reading what Tracer had to say about the magenta shirt and silver pants McCree had chosen to go with it.

“I think I’m stuck.”

Hanzo looked up and nearly dropped the phone. He tried not to laugh. He took a deep, shaky breath, put the phone on McCree’s clothing pile, and stood.

“I know you’re tryin’ not to laugh.”

“I apologize, but this was... unexpected,” Hanzo said, snickering.

McCree thought the sound was adorable but his current predicament made it hard to stop and savour the moment.

“Just help me pull this shirt off, will ya?”

“Of course. Stand still,” Hanzo said, tugging the shirt off. It was slow going.

“Ow. Ow. Ow,” McCree said.

“Sorry, sorry. It really does not want to come off.”

Hanzo reached around McCree’s front and tried to pull it up from there. He pulled a little harder and bumped McCree’s chin.

“Sorry!”

“It’s alright, darlin’. I think it’s almost...”

Hanzo growled, let go and walked around to face McCree. He had to admit seeing someone trapped in a shirt was hilarious, but he wasn’t sure how McCree was faring in terms of breathing with a faceful of sequins. He grabbed the shirt and, with a forceful tug, managed to get it up past McCree’s head. Maybe that was too forceful.

“Nice go- FUCK!”

McCree yelped as he lost his balance. Hanzo caught him, arms around his waist, and only managed to remain upright because his back was pressed to the wall.

“Shit,” McCree said, face red both from being trapped in a shirt and their sudden closeness. “How do these things keep happening? It’s like I’m really fallin’ for ya.” He pecked Hanzo on the lips before righting himself.

Hanzo blushed and helped McCree get the shirt off of his arms.

“You are not buying that one,” he said.

“Don’t worry, wasn’t plannin’ to,” McCree said, putting it back on the empty hanger.

“The one with the sunrise is nice,” Hanzo said.

“I think that was the only one Hana halfway liked,” McCree said. He took the mentioned shirt and its hanger, inspecting it.

“It was the only good shirt you managed to pick out.”

“I think this might be one you grabbed, darlin’.”

“A perfect choice, then. I will not fail anyone if we are discussing clothing options. Now hand it over.”

“What, why? I thought you wanted me to buy it.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “I am buying it for you,” he said.

“Whoa, hold on there. I’ve got the cash for a shirt, darlin’.”

“I am well aware. But this is a gift.”

“Oh,” McCree said, flushing red again.

They walked all over the mall. Hanzo ensured that McCree tried some takoyaki.

“This is Genji’s favourite food,” Hanzo said.

Hanzo bought a jacket that McCree complimented him on, an ear and eyepiece communicator that he thought Mercy might find useful, and some tea leaves. McCree picked up a few cookbooks and more clothes because the mall had so many to choose from. They walked through the store selling fish and other aquatic pets, where they met up with Genji and Mercy, who was holding his mask.

“Oh my, this will come in handy,” Mercy said as Hanzo handed her the communication device. “It reminds me of something Jack once used, but more modern, of course. Thank you, Hanzo.”

“I bought ten pants and three new cat shirts,” Genji said, toothpicking at his takoyaki.

McCree laughed. He told Genji about getting stuck in a shirt earlier at the clothing store, and about Hanzo buying him some takoyaki, too.

“I always thought Hanzo would spoil his date if he ever bothered with one,” Genji said. “I am surprised he has yet to buy you an entire store.”

“Why’s that?” McCree asked, not even bothering to ask how Genji knew about whatever was going on between him and Hanzo.

“Because he always spoiled _me,”_ Genji said with a laugh. “I’ve told many stories about Hanzo and I not getting along, but he hated to see me upset more than he hated most things. He and my father were far too generous when it came to me wanting material objects. I would point at an item I liked in the store, and Hanzo would always buy it. Even if it meant emptying his wallet and pockets.”

McCree looked surprised and Genji laughed again.

“Be nice to him, Jesse,” he said, quieter and with a warm smile that immediately reminded McCree of Mercy.

“...And that’s why Jack wanted a custom ear... eyepiece,” Mercy said.

“Amazing,” Hanzo said.

McCree and Genji were watching the two.

“Is something the matter?” Mercy asked. “I did not mean to interrupt your conversation.”

“Naw, I think we’re about done here,” McCree said. He checked the time: 3:47. “Let’s head down to the food court.”

Genji made a comment about Jack’s old communicator. He and Mercy segued into what sounded like a very intense discussion on the visor he currently used and his entire helmet, whether or not it worked like his old communicator. 

McCree was content to linger at Hanzo’s side again. They didn’t have to talk. McCree enjoyed his company. Hanzo looked over to him, they made eye contact, and McCree smiled. Hanzo blinked, looked away, but then smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ art! [good comic](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147766266896/infinite-atmosphere-the-dragon-is-happy-to-see), [they are shirtless here](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147982254116/panzerkunstt-oh-dear-whats-this), [a very pretty kiss](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147982589851/ssaravinter-please-stay-safe-me-when), [something chill](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/148061596841/awfulthinker-aftermatch-calm-moments), [VERY important comic](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/148091198471/platanoart-local-cowboy-stumped-by-ex-yakuza), [another VERY important comic](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/148091756301/vimeddiee-young-mccree-seems-like-a-tramp-stamp).
> 
> mccree just has so many questions.


	5. Amative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really didnt think id have this chapter out in time for today. thursday. update day. but then i finished it and i was like wow that just happened. my pings been too fucky to play ow and i am very Sad™ about it
> 
> least i can still write so fuck yeah im gonna write, next log for _it's basically discord_ should be out soon enough //

Everyone was more upbeat after the shopping trip. Mercy wore her new earpiece. D.Va took a photo and sent it to Soldier: 76, who replied that he wanted one of his own. The day was picture-perfect with bright sun and energy flowing freely as people went about their daily business.

“This is a really nice city,” D.Va said, looking around.

“It is,” Genji said.

“Where d’you wanna go next?” Tracer asked.

“Ooh, how about the park up ahead?” D.Va suggested.

“Which park- oh.”

Genji turned and tapped Hanzo’s arm.

“What?” Hanzo asked, pulling his arm back. “I have no objections.”

“Suit yourself,” Genji said. Hanzo could hear the smile in his voice.

The park was more like a garden. Trees surrounded the paths, and there was a bridge up ahead going over a river. The greenery looked nice at the height of spring with lush foliage and bright flowers blooming.

“Let’s take a walk,” Mercy said.

She and Tracer asked Genji plenty of questions about the garden, though he couldn’t answer most of them because he didn’t know much about the plants. D.Va took pictures, hopping beside a different person every five minutes for another selfie. Hanzo told McCree about visiting the park at around eight years old or so with Genji and their father.

“Of course there were people watching over us, all around the park. It was hardly a casual visit. But... Genji had insisted on taking a look around, and our father could not deny him that.”

“That sounds awful sweet,” McCree said.

The group took a seat by the river, enjoying the shade of the trees. McCree flapped his serape on the grass, sat down, and Hanzo joined him. McCree’s arm went around Hanzo’s shoulders and they sat together apart from the others. They were content to watch as Genji threw a rock ten meters before it splashed into the water. Tracer, impressed, tried to outdo him. Hanzo rested his head on McCree’s shoulder and McCree’s heartbeat sped up.

Even with Tracer and D.Va’s excited yelling, Hanzo started drifting off. Genji threw another rock, even further this time. He hit a bigger rock in the water, and the others cheered. Mercy took pictures, smiling.

“Hanzo,” McCree said.

Hanzo hummed in response.

“How’re you feelin’?” McCree asked.

“Fine,” Hanzo murmured.

“D’you think we’ll make Hana’s Snapchat story?”

“Why do you ask?” Hanzo asked, blinking and opening his eyes.

McCree felt him shift as he roused himself from half-slumber.

“That’d be, ah, ‘cause she’s got her phone pointed towards us.”

“Hm.”

True to McCree’s word, D.Va was sitting down beside Genji but while he conversed with Tracer and Mercy, D.Va was turned around with her phone pointed straight at McCree and Hanzo. There was an intense look on her face. Pleased with herself, it seemed.

Hanzo rubbed his eyes, yawned, stretched his arms, and straightened.

“Should I... tell her to stop?” McCree asked, sounding more perplexed than worried.

“Jesse.”

“Yeah?” McCree asked, turning to face Hanzo.

Hanzo’s expression was more intense than D.Va’s. McCree couldn’t stop himself from blushing. He had no idea what was going on. Hanzo held McCree’s face, and pressed forward, kissing him. McCree, caught off guard, fell to his back. His hat rolled aside but Hanzo kept kissing him. McCree had no idea where to put his hands for a moment before resting them on Hanzo’s back.

D.Va whooped. Her fist pumped the air as she continued to document the scene on her phone.

“What’s up, love?” Tracer asked.

D.Va didn’t reply, just pointed at Hanzo snogging McCree on the grass.

“Holy hell!” Tracer exclaimed, fumbling as she went for her phone, too.

“My goodness,” Mercy said, eyes wide.

Genji applauded politely before taking his phone out as well.

Hanzo parted from McCree, whose face was very, very red. He was dazed as Hanzo pet his head and sat back up on the serape like nothing had happened.

D.Va threw her non-phone hand up in the air, but was otherwise speechless.

Hanzo waved, and the others burst out into laughter.

“Are you two dating?” D.Va asked as she put her phone away.

“Uh,” McCree said, getting off the grass.

“Yes,” Hanzo replied.

“Yeah!” McCree said, looking grateful but still stunned. He fixed his hair and put his hat back on. “So, uh, darlin’... we’re dating?” he asked Hanzo.

Hanzo peered at him. “Would you like to go out with me?” he asked.

“Yes. Heck yeah, I would,” McCree said, scratching the back of his head and tipping his hat forward.

“Then let us date,” Hanzo replied, leaning back on McCree’s shoulder.

“Ye-yeah! Okay, yeah. Gosh. Uh. Yeah, sounds good,” McCree stammered.

McCree gazed at the sun-dappled grass, then at the group clamouring over D.Va’s video, then he put his arm around Hanzo, who gave a contented sigh. McCree relaxed. He thought of words someone had given him once in the past:

_“Sometimes you do not look back. Sometimes, you take what you have been given, and you run. You run and you run and you keep going, and you will know what kind of situation this applies to: never look back.”_

Then she’d nailed a target McCree had to squint to see and patted him on the shoulder.

Hanzo’s hair ribbon fluttered over McCree’s fingers and he toyed with it for a bit.

“Y’know, darlin’, I think you would’ve liked Fareeha’s mom.”

Hanzo tapped at his phone. “Why is that?” he asked.

“To be honest, you kinda remind me of her. But you’re also kinda like Gabriel too, ‘cause you’re so grumpy.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I have heard much about Ana Amari,” he said before putting his phone in McCree’s non-cybernetic hand that wasn’t around his shoulder.

“Look.”

“What’s- oh boy,” McCree said as he played D.Va’s updated Snapchat story. “Hey, we made it, didn’t we, darlin’. I’m surprised you even have Snapchat.”

“Everyone has Snapchat, Jesse,” Hanzo said. Then he paused. “The caption is...” he began, trailing off.

McCree smiled, because the caption was just a variety of heart emojis.

“Fitting,” he said, handing the phone back. “Hey, darlin’, how many people d’you think have seen this? It’s been... three minutes since she posted it.”

“How many people does she have added?”

“A while ago she was all happy about Snapchat makin’ the friend limit higher... Even I ain’t sure. Hey Hana!”

“Yeah, pops?” D.Va yelled back.

“How many people’ve seen your story?” McCree asked.

“Guess!”

“Fifty?” Mercy suggested.

“That’s way too low,” D.Va replied, shaking her head. “I accept _all_ the friend requests I get!”

“It has not been that long,” Genji said. “I will guess three hundred.”

“Three hundred fifty,” Tracer said.

“Four hundred,” Mercy said.

“One thousand,” Hanzo said.

“Oh, c’mon, there’s no way it’s that high, darlin’. Four hundred and... eighty.”

“It is a good thing none of you were betting,” Hanzo said with a smirk.

“Hanzo was closest,” D.Va said, showing the others her phone. “One thousand and sixty or so.”

Everyone expressed their disbelief.

“Damn,” McCree said.

“Hanzo does it again,” Genji said, shaking his head.

“That is... a lot of people,” Mercy said.

“It’s been five minutes!” Tracer exclaimed.

D.Va shrugged. “This is what happens when you accept everyone who adds you,” she said.

“Your fame is astounding,” Mercy said. “Your fans must love you very much to watch all five hundred seconds of your Snapchat story.”

“Hey, it’s not fi-! Oh, wow, it is five hundred seconds long... I think most of that was the restaurant alone.”

After some more idle conversation, Tracer suggested holographic catch. Genji and Mercy laughed because D.Va and Hanzo had no idea what that game was.

“Alright, loves,” Tracer said, grinning wide. “You just have to download the app and hook it up to a holo-bracelet. I know they aren’t cheap and they don’t have a _ton_ of uses yet, but it’s okay, ‘cause I have five and we can share.”

“I have three with me,” Hanzo said, reaching into his pocket. “Which brand are you with?”

Tracer held her wrist up. “Holon,” she replied before removing four of the white bracelets and passing them around. 

“Mine, too,” Hanzo said. He handed one to McCree and one to D.Va.

“Ooh, matte black with green lighting. Pretty!” Tracer said.

“Holon is going to put all the other electronics manufacturers out of business one day,” Mercy sighed, shaking her head.

“We’ll see,” Tracer said with a laugh, handing the others a bracelet each. “Just split it in half like this, where the lines are. Then hold it to your wrist and tap the blue light here, or green if you’ve got one of Hanzo’s. The light should loop around and the bracelet’ll float around your wrist.”

Tracer showed everyone. The bracelet was hovering around her wrist, and she did the same with the other half.

“Then remove these pieces and put them on your ears - yep, just like an ear cuff! It’s more fun playing with sound, trust me,” she said.

“Now what?” D.Va asked, waving a forearm and watching the bracelet bob.

“Connect your phone to the bracelet, just like that! Now you need the app. Here, tap your phone to mine. Okay, just hit accept on that.”

Tracer got the app on everyone’s phone.

“Lemme just open a lobby... there we go! Invite nearby... ooh, I can invite by contacts. Good to know. It’s fun playing this from super far away,” Tracer said, giggling. “Join the party, loves! Then pick a colour, but dibs on cyan!”

“This is a lot of setup for a game,” Hanzo said. “Also, I am taking blue.”

Tracer rolled her eyes. “It’s a _fun_ game,” she said. “Sure we could’ve brought a frisbee or ball with us and played some regular catch, but those won’t save your score. And they don’t have sound effects!”

“Do we... should we stand apart?” Mercy asked.

“Yeah, of course! Spread out, everyone,” Tracer replied.

When the group was spread out, Tracer tapped her bracelet to speak to the others scattered around the riverbank.

“The lit up mic symbol is like a voice channel button. Pretty neat, huh? It’ll be just like on the field. Tap your pointer finger to your palm to turn the mic on and tap again to mute it. It’s the same to turn the voice channel on and mute, but with your middle finger. And your ring finger mutes the game sound, but you can adjust it manually on your phone. Try it out!”

“I want one of these bracelets,” Mercy said into the channel.

“Seconded,” McCree said.

Tracer giggled. “Nice work, loves! Now, I’ll serve,” she said, adjusting the game’s lobby on her phone.

From her bracelet, a cyan ball of light shimmered forth. It was a little bigger than a baseball.

“There aren’t any rules, but you get points for catching and especially for hitting the ball real hard. The bracelets detect your movements. You can hit it with any part of your body! I’ve given it some random effects to make things more interesting. Now... here we go!”

Tracer tossed the ball up in the air, jumped, and whacked it forward towards D.Va, whose eyes widened. With a yell, she caught the ball. It was engulfed by pink accompanied by the sound of fire crackling. She brought her arm back and lobbed the ball towards Hanzo, who deflected it with his forearm. A sound effect of waves crashing played as the ball turned blue. Mercy slashed the air, the ball turned yellow. Genji jumped and caught it single-handedly, turning it green.

There were a few more solid passes. D.Va smacked the ball too hard by accident and it bounced into the river. Everyone watched as it was carried off by the waves and disappeared, out of virtual bounds. When the ball, still glowing pink, came back out of D.Va’s right bracelet, everyone was laughing too hard to receive her furious throw.

“Oh, come _on!”_ D.Va exclaimed. “It was an accident!”

“Yeah, but you hit it with so much anger!” Tracer said, snorting in between her giggle fit.

Genji picked the ball up from the ground. “Maybe we should play a game we won’t get mad at,” he said, smiling.

“Hell, if we’re gonna let catch get the better of us, we ain’t up for any game at all,” McCree said. He swatted the ball away.

“Why don’t we play some hot potato?” Tracer suggested, catching the ball. She pulled her phone out, adjusted some settings, and the ball’s shape became that of a large potato.

“That is a very literal game,” Hanzo said, making McCree laugh.

“How does it work?” Mercy asked.

“Fewer style points here. We just toss it back and forth. It’ll turn redder as it gets closer to exploding!”

“The ball _explodes?”_ Genji asked in disbelief.

“Yeah! That’s the best part! You don’t want to be holding it when it does that,” Tracer said, winking. “Your ear cuff won’t be happy. I mean, don’t worry! You can turn the volume down and it shouldn’t hurt, but it should startle you a bit.”

She tossed the potato over to Mercy, who immediately shoved it at Genji. Within a few more swift passes, the potato turned orange and started ticking loudly before turning red.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Mercy asked.

“It adds a sense of urgency!” Tracer replied.

Hanzo spiked it at D.Va and she shouted in alarm, punching it in midair. The potato exploded in a miniature firework display. Everyone applauded as D.Va stared ahead, stunned into silence.

“Okay,” D.Va said. “That was fucking sick.”

The group played a few more games of hot potato as the sun neared the horizon. Mercy had kicked the potato into exploding once, and it had blown up in McCree’s face another time. Hanzo laughed more than anyone else. It did the same in Tracer’s hands, and she almost fell into the river.

“That was exhausting!” she exclaimed, lying down in the shade.

“But it really was fun,” D.Va said, lying down next to her. “Show us our scores!”

“Check your phone, love.”

“Aw, no way! Second place?!” D.Va exclaimed. She huffed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe Hanzo beat me!”

“What?” Hanzo asked, taking his phone out.

“Nice hitting, darlin’,” McCree said, pecking Hanzo’s cheek.

“Oh. Yes, of course,” Hanzo said. He blinked.

“Good job on third, Genji,” Mercy said, hi-fiving him.

“Thank you, Dr. Ziegler. I had a feeling my cybernetically augmented body would come in handy some day,” Genji replied.

“Let’s sit for a while longer,” Mercy said.

“Please,” D.Va said, tearing grass out of the ground. “I’m so tired.”

McCree and Hanzo were both lying down on McCree’s serape. McCree liked having Hanzo close to him. He’d been given little time to process what had happened earlier, and right now he felt... good. Propped up on his elbow, he watched Hanzo scroll through the game’s result and statistics breakdown. McCree smiled. He remembered the bracelet on his wrist.

“Hey, darlin’, you want this back?”

“The bracelet? Keep it,” he said. “I have a few spares, and I can always take Genji’s.”

“Shoot, why d’you own so many anyway? For that matter, I wonder why Lena owns so many.”

Hanzo rolled to his side, placed his hand on McCree’s cheek, and kissed him.

“Did I say something?” McCree asked, face red.

“No,” Hanzo said as he rolled onto his back again. “I simply felt like it.”

“I sure as hell ain’t gonna complain.”

“The bracelets are convenient because you can project more advanced holograms and several windows from them. It’s like using several monitors, but with any mobile device,” Hanzo said. He fiddled with his phone and bracelet, projecting the catch app window from his right wrist, and his home screen from his left.

 _“Advanced_ holograms?”

“Yes, like recorded videos. Only a few newer phones are able to do the same.”

“I s’pose most people wouldn’t have much use for that,” McCree said, chuckling. “Looks mighty convenient, though.”

“It is. You would be surprised.”

“Maybe I’ll do somethin’ halfway useful with it.”

“Hey, anyone ready for dinner?” D.Va asked.

“S’pose I could go for a meal,” Tracer said.

“Didn’t you want to sit a little while longer?” Mercy asked.

“That was _before_ I remembered my hunger.”

“Let’s go to a restaurant,” Genji suggested.

“I don’t know if we’re dressed appropriately,” Mercy said, looking down at her dress.

“You look fine, Angela,” Genji said as he gave her shoulder a reassuring pat.

“Genji and Hanzo’s jacket ensembles work well,” D.Va said. She nodded in approval to Genji then to Hanzo.

“Who cares about what we’re wearing?” Tracer asked. “We’ve got money and great manners. We’ll be fine.”

Mercy turned to Genji. “So, let me guess. You and your brother will know the owner of at least one classy restaurant. Perhaps a childhood friend, or a connection in the Japanese mafia,” she said.

“Our clan is not the Japanese mafia,” Hanzo muttered. McCree chuckled.

Genji held a hand up to his mask as if he was whispering even though he spoke with the aid of an artificial vocal box and was sitting several metres away from Hanzo.

“It is basically the Japanese mafia,” he replied in a mock-whisper.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I know a place not too far from here,” he said.

“Then let’s get going,” Mercy said.

After twenty minutes of walking, even Tracer was getting tired.

“How much longer?” she asked, running a hand through her hair.

“Another block,” Hanzo replied without turning around.

McCree glanced over at the unperturbed Hanzo. He smiled and wanted to remove a hand from his pocket and take Hanzo’s. Would that be too forward? What if Hanzo didn’t like holding hands? Somewhere behind, Genji and D.Va started arguing about salad types. Mercy was trying to shut them up before they disturbed other pedestrians.

Tracer was walking while looking up one of the salads - either watercress or green mango - on her phone.

McCree looked at Hanzo again and looked away as he blushed.

“Hey darlin’, you look nice in the sunset,” he said.

Hanzo turned to him.

“Did I do something to warrant the comment?” 

McCree laughed, replied, “No, Hanzo. It was somethin’ I thought just now, ‘s all.”

“We’ve arrived,” Hanzo called to the group, stopping.

Tracer bumped into him, followed by Genji and D.Va whose argument had grown more intense but now dissolved. Genji looked up and nodded in approval.

“Mizu,” Mercy said, reading the sign.

“[This place has good food,]” Genji said to Hanzo.

“[Yes,]” Hanzo replied.

Tracer was the first in the door, Genji right behind her to call the table.

“Don’t _run,_ Lena! That’s so rude!” D.Va yelled.

Mercy sighed, shook her head, and followed.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said.

McCree blinked and looked at him, asked, “Yeah?”

“I think you look nice, too.”

Hanzo turned and walked to the door, thanked Mercy for holding it open. McCree took a deep breath, feeling his heart race as he entered the restaurant.

At dinnertime, the restaurant was bustling. Conversations filled the room along with plenty of sounds: glasses clinking, chopsticks tapping against edges of bowls, laughter. There were quite a few people dressed formally in suits and dresses, hair done up, jewelry sparkling. The lighting overhead was a pleasant gold coming from hovering lanterns.

Genji spoke with the host. The group was seated.

“Order whatever you’d like,” Genji told them.

McCree sat beside Hanzo, who immediately picked up the menu tablet in front of him to scroll through it. He was done choosing his meal in seconds.

“What’d you pick, darlin’?” McCree asked.

“Zaru soba and yaki gyoza,” Hanzo replied. When he noticed McCree’s blank look, he clarified: “Noodles and dumplings.”

“Ohh,” McCree said. “Well, obviously.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes but he was half-smiling.

“[Is it strange for you to eat with these Westerners?]” Genji asked.

Hanzo gave him a look. “[I have travelled the whole world. Why do you assume their habits would be an issue now?]”

“[Lena is holding her chopsticks the wrong way.]”

Hanzo straightened, looking affronted.

“[It is not the worst I’ve seen,]” he said with a sigh. “[She is probably doing it on purpose to spite Hana.]”

“What’d Lena-chan and Hana-san do?” McCree drawled.

“[None of your business, cowboy,]” Genji replied.

McCree squinted.

“[Why do you call him that? ‘Cowboy’ sounds almost the exact same as it does in English,]” Hanzo said.

“[He won’t be able to tell if we talk really quickly,]” Genji said, setting his menu to the side.

“Has he always called you cowboy in Japanese?” Hanzo asked McCree.

“You traitor,” Genji said, crossing his arms.

“He didn’t speak much Japanese ‘round us non-Japanese speakers,” McCree said, looking amused. “I’ve heard more from you and him chattin’ than from him in a year. Though... I spec that might be ‘cause you two are awful chatty.”

“We are _not,”_ Hanzo said, crossing his arms as well.

“Aw, c’mon, darlin’. Don’t pout,” McCree said. He leaned in and planted several kisses on Hanzo’s cheek.

“Stop,” Hanzo said, face reddening. “We are in a restaurant.”

McCree pulled back with a smile.

“You two are adorable,” Genji said. “It is sickening.”

“Don’t be so rude, love,” Tracer said.

“I just made seven tweets about it,” D.Va said, tapping at her phone. “Make that eight.”

“What?” Hanzo asked.

“What’d you even have to say?” McCree asked, raising his eyebrow.

D.Va showed the table her phone. The first tweet she’d made said, ‘omg hanzo + mccree omg omg omg’ followed by an emoji with heart eyes. The next tweet was thirty heart eyed emojis. The next was her typing in excited allcaps about Hanzo and McCree kissing. Then another string of emojis.

Tracer burst out laughing, showing her phone to the group, too.

“Lúcio retweeted the picture!” she exclaimed.

“You took a picture?” McCree asked. “Shucks, I didn’t even notice.”

D.Va shrugged like it was no big deal.

“I won’t lie, it’s a pretty good one,” she said, scrolling up to show the picture of McCree kissing a flustered Hanzo on the cheek.

“Y’oughta send that to me,” McCree said.

“Pfft, it’s on Twitter! Just hop on my profile,” D.Va said. “Or Lúcio’s. Hey, he texted. He wants to know if we’re having fun.”

“Yes, this is rather entertaining,” Mercy said.

D.Va helped relay a few messages back to Lúcio. The chatter swelled and hushed as everyone’s food was brought over. Before long, the group was eating.

McCree still wanted to hold Hanzo’s hand. But he ate the dumplings he’d ordered, working awkwardly at them with the chopsticks. They were tools he could use, if he concentrated enough on the finger movements.

Hanzo warmed up some by the end of the meal when Genji poured him sake in his floating cup. He was participating in the conversation, adding a quip here and there. He even almost smiled once, when McCree made an awful pun that D.Va and Genji hated.

“Have a good meal?” McCree asked.

Hanzo nodded as he paid the bill.

“Did you?”

McCree pecked his cheek. “‘Course, with you around,” he replied.

“Oh my gosh, you two,” D.Va said. She was grinning wide.

“You can take pictures another time. Let’s go,” Hanzo said as he got up.

D.Va did take plenty of pictures, though they were of the buildings and streets the group passed, not Hanzo and McCree. For that, Hanzo was grateful. He had to admit he didn’t hate the idea of thousands of others seeing him with McCree, but it was still mind-boggling to think about the numbers. More importantly, he didn’t like having his picture taken.

“We should look for a place to stay,” Genji said. “Unless you would like to drive back now, Dr. Ziegler.”

Mercy looked ready for a nap. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve slept in a hotel. Let’s look for one,” she said.

“There’s one right up ahead,” Tracer said, pointing at the building.

One night reservations were made. Hanzo and McCree ended up in the same room. They sat on the king-sized bed they were to share, half a metre apart. McCree twiddled his thumbs.

“So, uh... you could’ve had a room to yourself, y’know,” McCree said. “More roomy... private.”

“Would you have wanted me to reserve a room for myself? Even Genji is sharing a room with Angela.”

“Heck no,” McCree said, frowning. “‘Course I wouldn’t mind. We’ve already slept together- er, slept... you know what I mean. ‘Sides, Angie and your brother are close friends. It’s gonna be like a fun li’l sleepover for ‘em. Same with Hana and Lena.”

Hanzo took McCree’s hand and McCree swore his heart would beat right out of his chest as Hanzo shifted to move closer to him. McCree turned his head slowly, and received Hanzo’s light kiss. Before long, they were both on the bed, Hanzo’s lips pressed to McCree’s.

“Y’know, every single time you do that, I swear I light up. Can you see it? Always felt it’d look pretty clear from the outside,” McCree said, his face flushed.

Hanzo brushed McCree’s hair back, caressing the top of his head. He didn’t reply, but McCree could see light in his half-lidded eyes. They were a lovely shade of brown, almost as dark as his pupils. McCree was thoroughly distracted.

“Is something the matter?” Hanzo asked.

McCree swallowed hard. “No, darlin’. You have the nicest eyes,” he said.

He moaned when Hanzo kissed him again because he felt Hanzo’s tongue press against his and it set him on fire.

“Hey, darlin’... do you want to...?” McCree asked, trailing off because he wasn’t even sure what exactly he would’ve finished that sentence with. But here they were, free of most clothing because neither of them had brought pyjamas. And McCree couldn’t deny he wanted Hanzo.

Hanzo shook his head. “No, we need to sleep tonight,” he said, looking away from McCree’s eyes and refocusing down at his chest. “I apologize.”

McCree tipped Hanzo’s chin up.

“I don’t mind, darlin’,” he said. “I won’t ever mind.”

Hanzo looked grateful. He got off of McCree and headed to the bathroom.

McCree sat up, yawned, stretched. He flipped through social media as Hanzo showered. He chuckled at D.Va’s tweets and Lúcio’s retweet. He watched D.Va’s whopping 600 second Snapchat story. There was Hanzo kissing him. McCree wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. He flopped back down on the bed and was asleep in minutes.

Meanwhile, Hanzo was taking his shower. As the water hit him and he rubbed shampoo into his hair, his mind wandered. He thought about McCree and his smile. He thought about how McCree had seemed so enigmatic at first, but the second he’d cracked a joke at Soldier: 76 and grinned, proud of himself, Hanzo understood who he was. Or at least, understood enough to take a bit of interest in him.

But his words had been sparse in their initial conversations. Both of them had acted aloof. Then... Hanzo supposed that McCree started to _like_ him. He’d warmed up a bit more. And then he’d made that comment about Hanzo being handsome when they were eating breakfast. That had only been a day ago.

Hanzo closed his eyes as the shampoo rinsed off.

So much had happened in the past two days.

The soap carried the pleasant fragrance of jasmine, sweet and almost cloying. Hanzo scrubbed his arms, over his stormy dragon tattoo. If there was anything he liked about himself, it was that tattoo. He wondered what McCree liked about him.

He liked McCree.

What was it about him, exactly, that made him so... alluring? Hanzo snorted; the realization that McCree was actually charming was amusing to him. But he’d been charmed, so he couldn’t exactly joke about the fact of the matter. McCree was warm. The way he smiled, and he had such a nice smile, Hanzo really liked seeing it. His voice, with that silly southern American accent. His face. The focus he had on the battlefield, aiming and shooting with ease.

Hanzo blinked his eyes open.

The battlefield.

They would have to fight there, wouldn’t they? Of course, Hanzo would not hesitate. Even if the battles were all training, he would do what was expected of him. Hanzo thought it was cold of him to think so, but he knew he would shoot McCree if he had to. He’d respawn. Would McCree shoot him back? He had to.

Hanzo almost regretted telling McCree no. What had he said no to? Sex, right? Of course. What else could it have been, anyway? He hadn’t really thought about it. ‘No’ had been his reflexive response, and thus it was the one he’d given.

Would he want to do it? Another time? Another night?

He cleaned the rest of his body, wondering and wondering. How it would be like to be intimate with a person again. It had been a while. Hanzo had never been as fond of intimacy as Genji. He’d always had more important things on his mind than getting laid. Now that it was an option, a potential reality, Hanzo still wasn’t sure.

He watched the soap bubbles wash off his arms.

Maybe he’d want to. The way McCree had asked, as if he was a bit nervous... that shyness was endearing. Hanzo smiled to himself. Yes, he supposed one day he’d want to sleep with McCree. Connect with him on a new level. Hanzo turned the shower off, and was amused by his own mental attempt at making the act seem more poetic.

Was it strange, having been in only a few relationships? He’d had sex with more people than he’d dated, though neither number was particularly impressive. Very few of his experiences had left a lasting impression on him, which was not to fault his partners. He simply wasn’t interested. Not in sex. Not in love.

Hanzo thought about McCree, and his chest ached.

He dried his hair and body before wrapping the towel around his waist. He grabbed his phone from the counter and, in a burst of daring, called Mei. Hanzo wouldn’t have minded talking to Mercy, but he didn’t want to bother her if she was asleep. He trusted Mei, though. She was smart.

She picked up in a few rings, and Hanzo set his phone back on the counter as a hologram of her was projected in the air. She was wearing a hoodie and appeared to be lounging in the common room with Zarya asleep at her side.

“Hanzo? How are you?” she asked.

“Fine,” Hanzo replied. “I will be going to bed soon.”

“Are you... calling from a washroom?”

“Yes.”

Mei looked amused but she didn’t press further.

“Well, did something happen? I saw Hana’s Snapchat story, you know... You and Jesse? I never would’ve guessed!”

Hanzo exhaled and sat down on the toilet cover.

“I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Oh! What is it?” Mei asked. She seemed concerned, but curious.

“What is it like? To be in a relationship? To like someone?”

“Have you been in a relationship before?”

“A few. Most were not too serious.”

“Did you love them?”

Hanzo looked away.

Mei moved on: “It’s nice, I think. You are dedicating yourself to another person, a person whom you like and care for deeply. You get to be closer to them, and you can get to know them better. What you have with them is different from just being friends.” She smiled. “It can hurt, liking other people. But when it doesn’t, you should hold onto your happiness.”

“I see,” Hanzo said. “It makes more sense to hear about it than to think about it.”

Mei nodded. “Feelings and thoughts can be very complicated, more than they really are. It’s okay to talk to people about them, you know. I will always be around if you need a friend.”

Hanzo looked back up.

_A friend._

“Of course,” he said. “Thank you, Mei.”

“Get some rest, Hanzo,” Mei said. She laughed a bit before adding, “And be nice to Jesse.”

“I... I will. Good night.”

“Good night, Hanzo.”

Mei disconnected the call, and Hanzo exited the bathroom. Steam drifted out with him. 

“Jesse, if you would like to shower- oh. Nevermind, then.”

McCree was already dozing. Hanzo yanked the blanket from under him and he didn’t budge. He flapped it over McCree before getting in the bed himself, too tired to care about his wet hair dripping on the pillow.

“Good night.”

Hanzo kissed McCree’s cheek. It was a gesture more tender than he’d shown his previous partners. He wondered if McCree would ever know that.

 

McCree woke up first, but only because a nightmare had startled him into it. He was lying in the bed for a while, trying to steady his breathing as he recollected his memories about where he was and why he was there. Hotel room. Bed. Trip with the others. With Hanzo. Hanzo. Hanzo Shimada.

His boyfriend.

He looked over at the sleeping Hanzo, and he felt a tidal wave of relief and love wash over him. It didn’t help that he’d been dreaming, not for the first time, about the incident that had cost him an arm. And something else - McCree swore he’d dreamt of Reaper tearing him to shreds with his fearsome claws. McCree wasn’t scared of him, not really. He wasn’t.

But at least Hanzo was there, and they were _dating,_ and McCree was happier than he’d been in a long time. A part of him was still floored that Hanzo had asked him out. As if it had been a fluke or a mistake. Hanzo had kissed him. McCree had never thought of him as one to initiate much, but being kissed by Hanzo was a magical experience and it made McCree happy.

He was happy.

He was _happy._

He hoped Hanzo was happy, too.

“G’mornin’,” he murmured, pecking Hanzo’s cheek.

McCree studied the holo-bracelet Hanzo had given him. There was a bit of wear and tear on the matte surface, but otherwise, Hanzo had clearly taken good care of it. McCree opened its program up on his phone, and was surprised to see that it held data. Sure, the thing had a respectable terabyte of storage space, but what had Hanzo kept on his bracelet that he didn’t leave in his phone or computer?

Curiosity getting the better of him, McCree opened the folder. He smiled. This wasn’t Hanzo’s bracelet; it was Genji’s. But McCree could see why Hanzo might’ve stolen this particular bracelet back on purpose. It contained some cute pictures.

There was one with Hanzo frowning as Genji pulled him in for a selfie, flashing a peace sign. A few that were of Genji and Reaper sparring - Genji was pulling off some _nice_ acrobatics in them. There was a picture of Mercy smiling at Hanzo’s side, then one of just Mercy winking at the camera. A picture of Genji holding up his Nintendo DS and Hanzo sitting cross-legged on the floor behind him playing Pokémon. Several of Genji and Mercy striking silly poses, making silly faces. Some of Hanzo shooting and Genji training with his katana.

“Well that one’s familiar,” McCree mumbled, pulling up one of the pictures.

It was Hanzo and Genji, maybe around fifteen or so years ago. McCree had seen this before. This was the first picture of Hanzo that Genji had shown the Overwatch group ten years prior when Mercy had just rescued him and he was a new trainee. McCree laughed, because even in his youth Hanzo looked ill-tempered with his arms crossed. Genji was smiling.

He flipped to the next image, which a photo was of Hanzo. A different time and place than the first. In a restaurant, maybe? He was laughing. No wonder Genji had held onto the image. Hanzo looked amazing when he laughed, and he probably didn’t even know it.

There were many cat pictures, including a gorgeous painting with gold leaf that McCree took a few seconds to appreciate, fiddling with the projected image to see it shimmer as it moved.

The next few photographs were of Hanamura at night. McCree guessed they were taken by Hanzo because none of them had a filter on top like Genji’s. One was of Mercy standing on a rooftop, waving with her light wings lit up.

There was a nice picture of Satya and Mei drinking tea in Satya’s hard light art gallery, as Mercy had described it. One of Satya showing a few hard light objects, including a lovely origami crane. One of Genji pouring tea for Mei, and one of him pouring tea for an uninterested D.Va.

Then there was a photo of McCree. He blinked, because he didn’t remember it being taken. Well, it looked like a candid. It was of him smiling, looking out at the river. McCree stared at the image, transfixed. Not because it was a particularly impressive picture of him doing something cool, but because it had an uncanny resemblance to another picture that had been taken of him in the past by a person whom he missed dearly. She’d always taken candids of the Overwatch agents, and McCree had been the subject of plenty.

Hanzo could be likened to Ana Amari, and McCree found that amusing.

But there was something about them, both of them. Their type of person. In their quiet, when they were serious. There was an undeniable aura of wisdom about them that McCree had always seen as fascinating. They had soul-piercing gazes.

McCree put his phone away and faced the sleeping Hanzo. He found Hanzo fascinating. He didn’t mind the silence, because he understood Hanzo wasn’t big on talking. It gave McCree a chance to stare a little longer, when the focus between them wasn’t words.

When he looked into Hanzo’s eyes, he felt desire and amazement swirl within him. When he kissed Hanzo, he felt the universe hum in his chest the sweetest and most beautiful primordial tune it could play him.

McCree shut his eyes. He thought about Hanzo, and within him, he felt love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \\\ art! [rly cute](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/148116069586/kingsdarga-i-like-it-when-the-smol-pick-up-the), [a sweet gayze](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/148341214926/tazatouille-shot-through-the-heart-click), [clothes swap](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/148341467431), [this one’s got a DRAGON](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/148365941756/shina-a-darling-pls-dont-kill-me),
> 
>  
> 
> [ps wanna be sad](http://ubercharge.co.vu/post/147315821636/aw-genji-kept-a-photo-of-him-and-hanzo-together)


End file.
